Dirty Little Witch
by Azrael38
Summary: It's the summer after 5th year and Harry is not a happy camper. With his godfather dead, Harry has nobody left to turn to. Except one. One who has been with him since the beginning...
1. Even Tom Knows (They Belong Together)

I don't own any thing you recognize, blah blah, I hate disclaimers.

* * *

It was late at night in number 4 Privet Drive and in the smallest bedroom, Harry Potter was having a nightmare. Terrible dreams had been plaguing the poor boy's sleep in the weeks he had been back at his aunt and uncle's house. The visions of Sirius falling through the veil despite Harry's best attempts to save him troubled him often. The loss of his godfather, one of the few remaining links to his parents, flooded him with sorrow. Voldemort possessing his body in the atrium and screaming into his mind haunted many of his hours, sleeping and otherwise. Other nightmares, such as Dumbledore strangely announcing that there had been a mistake and that _The Prophecy_ was for Harry's death instead of Voldemort's, filled in the empty spaces. However, no nightmare Harry had experienced so far this summer had harried his dreams quite like the one he was experiencing tonight.

His friends were dying, one by one, in the Department of Mysteries.

It was like watching scenes out of a movie. Neville, going down to a Cruciatus from Bellatrix. A psychotic cackle, a flash of green light, and then he's gone.

Poor Ginny, already hobbled from a broken ankle, cut down but a powerful severing charm that hits her midsection and cleaves her in two.

Ron, ironically enough, is taken down by his own hand. Struggling under the influence of a Confundus charm, he mistakenly summons one of the swimming brains and it locks its slimy tentacle appendages around his neck and strangles him to death.

Little Luna Lovegood, falling to multiple gleefully-shouted killing curses. Luna, one of the gentlest and most caring people he knew, mercilessly struck down like some kind of animal.

Finally, the one that began it all. The familiar curly brown hair of his best friend, thrown backwards as a fiery, purple curse slices through her body. He stares at Hermione Granger's lifeless body, stuck in place as his friends die around him, over and over and over again. He stands there, unable to move, as she dies there on the cold floor, all alone. A grief-tinged wail rings through his head.

_NOOOO!_

Harry sat up abruptly as he woke from the nightmare, sweat running in rivulets from his body, his pulse pounding. He took stock of his surroundings, remembering that a dream is just that, a dream. He tried to tell himself that his friends had all survived, so everything was fine. They had all made it out of there, even if they were a little worse for the wear.

Neville proved himself admirably, defeating several Death Eaters, despite a broken nose and wand. Ginny's broken ankle was easily healed and Luna, despite being hit by multiple Stunners, was back to her normal self, well for her anyway, in days. Ron might suffer from a few bruises to his neck and ego, but no long-term damage was expected from his exposure to the tentacled monstrosity. Hermione, having nearly completed a large potion regiment prescribed by Madame Pomfrey, had mostly healed. All that was left to show of her close encounter with death was a small scar across her torso.

Yes, everyone was alive, but everything was _not_ fine.

But for one Silencio, the entire outcome of that battle could have ended _far_ differently. Harry was inconsolable, _useless_, for the precious seconds it took Neville to find Hermione's pulse. Had Hermione cast the Silencing charm on the other Death Eater instead of Dolohov, she surely would have died from the curse he sent her way and Harry felt sure the battle would have played out similarly to the nightmare he had just awoken from. What the hell? Why was he so weak when it came to her?

A soft scoff from the corner of the room drew his attention. _Please, boy. You know why that is._

Harry, startled from his introspection, stared into the shadowy corner of his room. A glowing pair of red eyes shone out from the gloom. He grabbed his wand from under the mattress and pointed it at the intruder. "Who's there," he asked, fumbling for his glasses on the dresser with his other hand.

_Who but the passenger in your head since that night so many years ago,_ the voice hissed. The figure stepped into a moonlit section of the room.

"VOLDEMORT," Harry raged at the pale, bald figure in front of him. His eyes wide, he raised his wand to cast something, anything, at his nemesis, when the piece of holly flew from his hand and landed neatly in the long fingers on the other side of the room.

_Now, now,_ the tall, gaunt figure tut-tutted at him, wagging a finger, _if you start cursing me right away, you'll never listen to what I have to say. You can't injure me here anyway,_ Voldemort finished, inspecting Harry's wand.

"Why would I listen to _anything_ you say," Harry yelled. "You're a murderer!" Without his wand, Harry knew that he was useless against the Dark Lord. The most he could hope for was to delay him until Dumbledore and the Order arrived. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Voldemort interrupted with a laugh.

_A valiant idea, of course, but misguided. As I said earlier, I cannot be injured here._ The realization hit Harry. Voldemort was in his _mind_. He quickly tried to build up his Occlumency walls in his memories as the Dark Lord laughed again.

_Good, good! Your defenses have grown much stronger since the school year! However, you are once again misguided. I am _not _here to harm you, Potter. I'm here to make you a deal. _Voldemort leaned back against the wall of his room, making himself comfortable and looking very relaxed.

That caught Harry off guard, however, he recovered quickly. "Deal? There's no deal to be made! You killed my parents. Sirius is dead because of you. I'll force you out of my mind," he finished, concentrating on his defenses harder. This didn't seem to bother Voldemort, however, as he just nodded.

_I would expect nothing less, boy. There is nothing to force out, however. I am as much a part of you as the eyes you received from your mother or the messy mop of hair that your father donated. I am no mere presence in your mind, Potter. I am a piece of soul lodged inside you._

"But, how-"

_The how and why should be obvious by now. Dark magic and immortality. You were a mistake, though. I did not account for the effect your mother's sacrifice would have. As the Killing Curse I fired at you rebounded and destroyed me, a piece of my soul separated from the rest and latched on to the only living thing left in the room: You._

Harry felt like he was going to be sick. A piece of Voldemort's soul was inside him? He wanted to scream. He wanted to rage. He wanted to yell at the fact that he was a container for a piece of his hated enemy's soul. He wanted to _**destroy**_ the bastard.

_Quit your moaning, boy. I said before that I was here to help._

Harry squinted his eyes in suspicion at the presence. "You said no such thing. What you _said_ was that you weren't going to harm me and that you were here to offer me a deal." The piece of Voldemort's soul laughed once more, clapping it's hands in glee, a sight that bothered Harry very much.

_So I did, so I did. Can't sneak one by you, can I, boy? I knew Granger was doing you some good. I do indeed have a deal to offer you, Potter. You see, my time in your body has... **changed** me in ways I still do not quite understand. The combination of your admittedly powerful magical essence, the dark sacrificial magic your mother performed to protect you from me, and the time I have spent here has corrupted my soul fragment._

"Wait," Harry interrupted, "Corrupted? Dark sacrificial magic? Why would my mother have anything to do with that?"

_Do not confuse 'dark' with 'evil', boy. Your mother's blood magic saved you from her fate. Without that protection, you would have been dead many times over already. As for the corruption, there is a reason it is not recommended to use living things as soul containers. Surely, you know Nagini?_

Harry knew. The massive snake was a deadly, twisted abomination of an animal. "Are you saying Nagini is another of these containers?"

_Indeed. Since she is not human, her animal essence could not resist the influence of the soul shard as you have and _she_ was corrupted. Her species is not naturally as big or as poisonous as she is. Along with being able to fight back, however, she is weaker, as she can die._

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "So, because my mother sacrificed herself for me, I somehow managed to defeat your Killing Curse, fight off possession, _and_ corrupt a piece of your soul over the years?" At the soul fragment's nod, "Bollocks." Another thought crossed his mind.

_Say what you are thinking, boy,_ the hissing voice spoke.

"You said you intentionally created Nagini, but that I was an accident." Harry worked it through his mind for a second before asking the right question. "How many of these containers had you created before I was... _created_?"

The shard laughed and danced again, once more disturbing Harry. _Now you are using your head for something other than keeping your pillow warm. Before being destroyed and creating you, I managed to create six other containers housing pieces of my soul. As part of this deal, I offer you their locations and the knowledge of how to destroy them._

Harry stared at the shadowy figure distrustfully. "I don't trust you at all. You have nothing to back your story up with. You could be outright lying to me and I would have no way of knowing."

_Too true. Perhaps I can offer a bit of information in good faith. Where do you think you get your Parselmouth abilities from, hmm? My living body's conduit into your brain? Where do you think those came from? _Harry gave no notice that the information impressed him. _I'm sure you remember the diary from your second year?_ Of course Harry remembered. He was sure Ginny remembered, too. The smell of that foul dungeon, the feeling of helplessness as the Basilisk stalked him, the terrible strength required to stab the diary with the fang while venom coursed through his body. Harry remembered. He would remember that place of horror for the rest of his life. _I created that Horcrux when I attended Hogwarts as a student. It was my first step on the path to immortality. I was greatly impressed by the strength you showed in destroying it._

Harry was running out questions to ask the fragment of Voldemort. "Why wouldn't Professor Dumbledore tell me any of this? Why am I hearing about this from a fragment of my enemy's soul lodged in my body?"

_Dumbledore_, the fragment ground out in anger. _The old fool understands little about what I have done and what he does know makes him dangerous._

"To you, perhaps," Harry scoffed.

_To us, Potter. _Voldemort's soul fragment paused. _Albus Dumbledore intends for you, for us, to die._

Harry was startled into laughing. The situation wasn't appropriate for the reaction, but there really was nothing else he could do. "Professor Dumbledore wants me to die? The man who has looked out for me since I came to Hogwarts, my magical guardian, friend of my parents? _That_ Albus Dumbledore?" He chuckled and lay back down on his bed. "I think I've heard enough here. If you're just going to keep spouting ridiculous theories-"

_Heed the words of the prophecy, Potter,_ the Voldemort fragment interrupted. _'Neither can live while the other survives'. For me to be mortal, all the pieces of my soul must be destroyed. Since he knows no better, he takes that to mean that you must die for the piece of soul inside you to be destroyed. _Harry continued to stare at the shade disbelievingly and it continued on.

_Look at how he has treated you through the years. Taking you here to live with these abusive, intolerant muggles when you could easily have become a ward of the school? The blood wards protecting this pathetic dwelling surely aren't as strong as those at Hogwarts. And what of your godfather, Black? Was sending him to prison without trial when it would have taken nothing more than a few drops of Veritaserum to discover the truth part of his plan? During your fourth year, did you truly think there was no way for a contract between a child and a magical object to be dissolved? He heads multiple legislative bodies of Wizard Law! Breaking magical contracts is nothing for him. Why else do you think your friends would voluntarily cease communication with you last year_, it continued berating him,_ besides on his orders? _The shadowy figure stalked to the other side of the room, its first sign of restlessness since it made itself known.

_How many more examples must I give? His plan is for you to go to your death willingly so that I might be destroyed._

"I would gladly sacrifice myself so that Voldemort could be defeated," Harry yelled. "If my death is necessary for you to be made mortal, then I would willingly offer my life for that cause."

_How very Gryffindor of you, Potter. Since we share the same body, however, that idea is unacceptable to me. As a memory of someone who has created one before, there is no better expert on this form of magic than I, and I can tell you that the destruction of the container is not the only solution to this problem. There is a set of circumstances that is unique to the creation of a Horcrux using a living being. If the being that contains the soul fragment assimilates the fragment in question, the fragment will be lost and the two will be one. _Harry stared at the fragment incredulously. He thought the fragment was mental due to the corruption and told him so.

_No, Potter, I am not **mental**, as you so eloquently put it. I have determined over the course of time that there is no better solution than this._

Harry wasn't buying it. "I still think destroying you is the better option," he grumbled. "Well, why haven't you tried taking over then, if you're so keen on surviving," he asked after a moment.

_Do you think I haven't,_ he asked, surprising Harry._ Possession is not the same as sending visions. My other self was able to do that due to my presence in your mind. Complete possession of one's mind and body is not that simple and is nearly impossible for a small fragment such as myself. You were beating me back before you finished teething, boy. You have more power in you than even the old fool understands, Potter. I want to give you more._

"Why would I need your help," Harry asked, grabbing his glasses from the nightstand and putting them on. It was obvious that, even if this mental invasion ended, he wouldn't be going back to sleep. "I have the power he knows not, like it said in the prophecy, and you yourself said that I'm very powerful on my own."

There was only one muggle activity that Tom Riddle truly enjoyed when he was a child at the orphanage. Not surprisingly, considering his proclivities, it was an activity that lent itself to solitude and contemplation. It was this activity that taught him to value patience.

Tom loved to fish.

As such, up until his destruction, he enjoyed using fishing metaphors in daily conversation. Gutting someone like a fish was one of his favorites. The fragment of his soul that took on that particular aspect of his personality was immensely enjoying this conversation. The fragment had been casting its line this entire time, looking for a nibble. Now it was fairly certain that it had gotten one.

_I did, but how much easier do you think it would be to find and destroy these soul containers if you knew what they were and where to find them? How many lives do you think you could save if you knew this information when you awoke? _The fragment paused for a moment. Potter was angry, scared, and tired of being uninformed. In response it had stoked his anger, calmed his fears, and filled in his gaps. Now it needed him to bite. _Would you take this deal if you knew that you would never cost another loved one their life through hesitation, indecision, or inaction?_ Taking in the boy's wide eyes, it knew that it had hooked him. The Granger girl's life was the bait, and Potter ate it up, hook, line and sinker. Time to reel him in. Slowly. _With my power and knowledge, you will be able to protect the one you love_, it whispered.

Harry sat for a moment, thinking through these new revelations. It was true that the power the soul fragment was offering him would make him nearly invincible. Using Voldemort's own power and knowledge to defeat him was tempting. Never again would he have to worry about being unable to move quick enough to protect someone that was important to him. What would he lose to gain this power, though? And what of Professor Dumbledore? Was it true what the fragment of Voldemort was saying and that he had been misled from the beginning?

_Longer, Potter. The deception from the old fool goes back to your parents' dealings with him and further. Who do you think convinced James and Lily to change their secret keeper from the strong-willed and loyal Black to the weak, sniveling Pettigrew? Certainly not the rat. He practically bounded to me in joy with the information in hand. Now, who had enough influence with you parents to push them to that decision?_

Combined with the earlier condemnation against his headmaster, the implication that Dumbledore had something to do with his parents' murder was too much for Harry to take. It was too easy to connect the dots. Harry nodded his head in resignation and the soul fragment knew that it was all over but the cleaning and filleting. So to say. "How do I know that you won't try to usurp control of my mind and my body once I've assimilated you?"

_Potter, I am but one-seventh of a soul. A small piece. A fragment. It took me a long time to figure out that my small piece of soul has no chance against a healthy, unbroken one. With your power, the risk of my taking control is non-existent._

"So why do this? Why give up your fight against my soul when Voldemort could win and you could take over my body?"

_Do not forget, boy, that I have been with you almost since the beginning. I know the emotion that roars in your heart and I have witnessed your courage. I have seen your power in destroying one of these containers already and I have no desire to be lost as that fragment was. My goal when starting upon this journey was to be the most powerful wizard of all time. I see now that I was mistaken and it was not meant to be. You are already more powerful than I could hope to be. If being the most powerful wizard in the world must become being a _part _of the most powerful wizard in the world and not being destroyed, I will accept that as an alternative._

"How much of a part," Harry asked, eyebrows raised. "I'm not going to hear you gibbering in my head all the time, am I?"

_For all intents and purposes, I will be no different than a single hair on your head or single fish in a school and noticed just as little. Once we merge, I become part of the whole and cease to exist as a fragment in your mind. You will continue to be yourself, for the most part just as you were before. I will only exist from then on as a part of Harry Potter, and not Lord Voldemort._

Harry nodded his head. "Very well. What do I need to do? Do I... do I kill you?" He looked around for his wand before remembering it was in the soul fragment's hand, who laughed uproariously. The act was still odd enough looking to make Harry cringe.

_No, Potter,_ the fragment said, chuckling._ Like I said before, you can't injure me here. All you need to do is take the fragment from its location and absorb it._ He noticed Harry's questioning look. _Where do you think it is, boy? Maybe that scar I gave you? Remove it and place it in your soul. Your heart_, he added in exasperation before Harry could ask. _It's a symbolic action. Remember, we're in your mind._

Harry reached up to the scar on his head and rested his fingers against the gash. A tingling feeling began in his fingertips, which he pulled away to see a brightly glowing shard of red light. Staring at the small piece of a human's soul he held in his fingers, he wondered what his mother would think of this turn of events. Making peace with a piece of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Any sort of protection the blood wards around Privet Drive had offered before tonight was now certainly guaranteed to be gone. And the dark magic he was most assuredly using! The idea that she would be disappointed saddened him. But there was more to worry about than just that. Lives literally depended on Harry locating and destroying these Horcruxes. If getting a smudge on his soul or gaining his mother's disapproval meant saving the lives of his friends and others, he would accept the consequences.

_Remember, Potter, _the voice hissed softly as the shadowy image of Voldemort faded away, _there is a difference between dark and evil magic._

_Purpose. The difference is in the purpose._

With that, the red of the fragment melted into the bright, blue light emanating from his chest. Harry's knees buckled and he fell back on the bed as he immediately blacked out.

Harry dreamed.

* * *

A/N: So this was just an idea that came to me while I was browsing some HP fanfic and I thought I might bang it out and post it up here and see if people are interested in reading. Just planning on it being short, with two or three chapters max. Second chapter is half done and if I can get that finished and posted today, I'll be happy. If you like it, let me know with a review, please.

AZ


	2. It's Not Love Anymore

A/N: So this is where the story earns its M rating. If the description of teenagers having, talking about, or thinking about sex bothers you, turn back now. Honestly, if people believe that teenagers _don't_ think about these things, they're sorely mistaken.

* * *

Hermione was dreaming.

Her rapid heartbeat, shallow breathing, and the light sheen of sweat covering her skin might signal an unpleasant vision, but this was no nightmare.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

Hermione was in the middle of a very erotic sexual fantasy. She just didn't know who with.

The shadowy figure currently attached to her lips by means of his own, seemed familiar in some way, but she couldn't quite place it. No, not his taste, or his touch, though those were both _very_ nice and her bits were quite appreciative, thank you very much. His scent seemed moderately familiar, almost like a combination of leather and... well, that other was quite obviously her own. His touch seemed to be bringing about some nice reactions that she certainly wasn't unhappy with.

She continued searching for the thread of familiarity as a hand crept up her skirt (since when does she wear skirts outside of Hogwarts, especially this short?) and, with a sharp slap to her bottom, derailed her train of thought. She started with a little squeak as the stranger once again spanked her butt. Intending to be incensed about this turn of events, she was instead concerned about the state of her knickers.

Or lack thereof.

Laying in her bed sleeping, Hermione blushed ferociously.

She liked the feeling of her bare butt exposed to the air, especially since the shadowy stranger had continued to spank it. The thought of anyone seeing her like this, with her skirt up over he hips and her business out for everyone to see sent a shiver of pleasure through her core. Yes, this was definitely the way to go.

A disturbingly naughty idea crept into her head.

She was such a dirty little witch.

* * *

Hermione quietly browsed through the offerings, carefully inspecting the books before putting them back in their proper places on the shelf. She didn't know why, but she just couldn't decide on something to read. That was never a problem before as she could usually just pick up any book and enjoy it. She needed to clear her mind. Maybe a quick _release_ session back home. But first...

She "accidentally" dropped a couple of the books she had managed to select before she started getting too hot to think straight. Bending over to pick up her dropped items, she blushed at her predicament. Not wearing any knickers to the library, where anyone could see. She should be embarrassed. People knew her here. She should be ashamed.

She was _so_ turned on.

After giving the room the required three second show, Hermione stood back up, the dropped books in her arms and hurriedly turned to leave before a soft, deep voice in her ear stopped her.

**Dirty little witch.**

A sharp crack like an apparition sounded and Hermione jumped in surprise, a small squeak jolted from her at the contact.

He had spanked her bottom.

Hard.

She turned around but, of course, the aisle was empty.

* * *

Hermione drained the last of the potion that Madam Pomfrey had sent home with her from school, and grimaced as she corked the glass phial and replaced it in her potions kit. Finally, after weeks of these foul-tasting concoctions, she had finished the regimen of healing potions the woman had prescribed to assist her in her recovery from the curse she had taken in the Department of Mysteries. She was slightly bothered, however.

She frowned as she remembered her dreams from the past few nights. They had been gradually becoming more and more erotic. She was waking in the morning, covered in sweat and smelling of sex. That part didn't really bother her all that much. In fact, her sleep these last few days of the potion regimen was the best she had gotten in months. The part that concerned her were the day trips. She didn't go far, usually just to the library by rail, but her activities while there were well past indecent and now pushing into illegal. The day after "The Spanking Incident" (as she referred to it), she had returned, only this time without her bra as well. She knew people could see through the white shirt she had worn. But when she "happened" to fall out of it while reaching for a book up high?

She was so randy.

Her nipples ached thinking of that day and the pinching they had gotten while there. Her mysterious stranger from the day before had shown up again, whispering in her ear, and squeezing her hard little buds.

**Dirty little witch.**

The thought of the voice in her ear made her shiver.

Today, after another erotic night of dreams, she hopped on the rail, again planning on going to the library. At least nothing new had been added to her ensemble, she thought with relief. She was still missing her panties and bra, though this concerned her less than it did the day before. Upon arrival, something told her that she wouldn't find what she was looking for today and she needed to get right back on and go home. She had grabbed a seat in a nearly empty car, and made herself comfortable in the back. Just as the train left the station, she started to feel it. Not much, just a little heat in her belly, but Hermione knew what was happening.

She was getting horny.

She had tried to ignore it as long as she could, she really did, but there she was, not five minutes into the ride and she was discretely rubbing herself off in her seat. Well, as discretely as one could rub oneself off in a public rail car. After gritting her teeth through a mind blowing orgasm and fixing herself back up so she _didn't_ look like a freshly shagged strumpet, Hermione looked around the car. Nobody was grinning at her or throwing her lecherous looks and she thought she had gotten away with it.

**Dirty little witch.**

He had kissed her neck and, while she was sighing in ecstasy, disappeared.

Tonight was the last night of the potions that she figured for the cause of the odd behavior, however and, while she would miss the restful sleep she was getting, she was tired of her voyage into exhibitionism. Hopefully tonight would be the last night for these dreams and she could stop acting like a hussy. So slutty.

Shameful.

_Dirty_.

* * *

Hermione nervously shuffled from foot to foot as she stood outside the entrance to the library, once her favorite haven, but now rapidly becoming a source of stress for her. This was getting ridiculous. Last night's dream took it too far. She knew because she woke, sore as all bloody hell, with her fingers crammed between her legs and her face mashed in her pillow.

Who sleeps like that?

She wanted to leave, she really did. Whatever her subconscious wanted from her this time was too much. She willed her feet to move but they stayed stuck right where they were on the sidewalk. She whimpered lightly, looking for something, _anything_, that would get her out of this mess. "Hey! Hermione," a voice yelled.

Of course, it was _him_.

She nearly cried in relief as she recognized Harry Potter running through the crowd. He grabbed her in a hug and she trembled in pleasure at the contact. If anyone could fix what was going on with her, it was Harry. _Her_ Harry.

"What are you doing out here," he asked, amusement in his voice. "There're no books outside." He grinned at her but dropped the smile as he caught sight of her worried look. "Hey now, what's wrong?"

Hermione just shook her head. "Don't ask me why but... can you just take me with you, wherever you're going?" She didn't care where it was, as long as Harry was there, she would be okay. "I just really need to get out of here. Right now."

Harry's eyes darkened quickly. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," she said, giving him a small smile and a nod. "I just want to get out of here."

"Well, why don't I take you home? Privet Drive is kinda far from here," he added lightly.

She quickly agreed, as her parents were out of town at a dental conference for the weekend and would not ask questions about the boy bringing her home. The reason for Harry being so far from his aunt and uncle's house in Little Whinging unsupervised never crossed her mind. She took his hand and finally got her feet moving in the direction of the rail platform. The ride passed uneventfully, as Hermione, thankfully, had no inclination to expose herself to anyone on the line today. As they got back to her unoccupied house, she began to feel a bit ridiculous. Maybe she had been wrong, or maybe the potion had worn off? Anyway, the business at the library didn't seem to be bothering her anymore.

That was, until she sat down on the couch next to Harry. Then, the fluttering in her belly, the flushing of her face, and the heating of her skin all returned full force. She lowered her gaze to her lap, trying to hide her surely burning cheeks.

"Hey now," he said, reaching under her chin and lifting her face up to meet his eyes. His deep, green eyes. "What happened? You can tell me anything." She really could. Harry would never judge her.

And so she told him of the last four nights' worth of erotic dreams and their following days, leaving nothing out. By the time she reached the latest dream, she was almost quivering on the couch. It was amazing that Harry hadn't noticed and commented yet. "Last night was the craziest," she said, reaching the reason for meeting him today. She tried her hardest to get the details. This one had remained a bit fuzzy when she woke up but it was clearing up as she sat here with Harry and talked about it. "I remember I was in Hogwarts, in the Great Hall. Everyone was there, but the perspective was wrong. I was higher up and all the way in front. At the Head Table." Her belly fluttered again and she had the distinct urge to touch herself. She fought it down and soldiered on. "Something was wrong though," she started again, frowning. After a moment, more came to her. "Everyone was staring at me." A pulse of excitement ran through her, tingling her every nerve ending.

"Did you feel embarrassed," Harry calmly asked her.

Her nipples twisted up into hard little points. "No," she almost moaned, "I liked it. I felt proud. I think... I think I was naked." This time she did moan and she couldn't stop her hands from running up and down her bare legs.

Harry paid this no attention. "What else? Think Mione."

"I can remember feeling _so_ randy. Like I wanted to do nothing else but shag. _Hussy_," she said throatily, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips. "And I was." She was having a hard time fighting the urge to cram her hand between her legs. "Next thing I realize, I'm getting what I wanted, and hard. Right there on the Head Table, Harry." She looked up, into his eyes.

Those beautiful green eyes.

Her hands had traveled so close by now that her skirt was bunched around her thighs. Surely Harry could see that she was exposing herself! What must he think of her? Not wearing any panties. So shameful.

"Everybody is watching. Ron, Neville, Luna, all our friends, our teachers, everyone I've ever known is there watching me get shagged by someone I don't even know." Hermione was starting to sweat as the pressure was getting to her and her arousal had to be obvious to Harry by now. The proof was in her nostrils.

"Is that all," Harry asked again, the calm tone breaking slightly.

"No," Hermione admitted, shaking her head. "There was one more thing. He..." She hung her head, not meeting his eyes.

"You can tell me, Mione. Look at me," he told her. She met his gaze. Those eyes. "Tell me."

By now, Hermione's sexual engine was on overdrive and she couldn't handle much more of this. The vivid picture came back to her, filling in details she hadn't even known up until now. "He buggered me, Harry. Right there on the Head Table in front of _everyone_ and... and I _loved_ it! I moaned and I screamed for more and I loved every second of it. I'm such a-"

**Dirty little witch**, he finished softly in her ear, setting her off on her most powerful orgasm to date. As she came quivering down from her sexual plateau, he leaned her down to lay in his lap. "I should be honest with you now, Hermione. I've been dreaming these past four nights as well. Up until I sat down on your couch, I had no recollection of anything I dreamed. As you started telling me about your erotic dreams, my memories came back to me. Dreams of a little tease, showing off her bits in the stacks at the library." She moaned as his hand came in contact with her bare butt then ghosted up her front and cupped her breasts. "Dreams of a slutty little hussy who plays with herself in front of everyone on the rail." He gave her a light slap on the rump, causing her to sigh in contentment. "Dreams of my hot, sexy friend, Hermione Granger getting shagged senseless in the Great Hall at Hogwarts."

She sat up facing him, perching on his lap. "I'm such a little hussy," she breathed and he sucked her lip into his mouth, claiming her mouth with his tongue.

"You are," he said, releasing her, "but you're _my_ hussy." She whimpered in response. "Say it," he ordered.

Hermione studied his gaze intently. Accepting what she found there, she asked him one thing. "Promise you'll never leave?"

"I'll be with you, forever," Harry said calmly, staring into her hazel eyes with his deep green ones. "Now, Mione. Say it."

_Dirty little witch_.

* * *

A/N: So there's that. There will probably be only one more chapter after this one. I won't spoil it for you so don't ask :) Thank you in advance for leaving me a review!


	3. Albert Dumore

A/N: Here it is, last chapter. Go on, read it!

* * *

Standing on the sidewalk overlooking number 4 Privet Drive, Albus wished that he was dreaming.

It had been a trying past few days for the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His trip to the Gaunt property had yielded nothing. He was certain the Tom would have hidden one of the shattered pieces of his soul in that place which contained so much of his broken family's history. By the dilapidated looks of the it, the shack had been abandoned for many years. Although a faint hint of magic lingered about the derelict building, there was no sign that anything was out of the ordinary. He poked around the many loose floorboards of the shack with the Sword of Gryffindor, but it was hopeless. There was simply nothing to be found. After equally fruitless trips to Riddle Manor and the remnants of the orphanage where Tom had grown up, Albus had hit an impasse. More research would need to be done on the memories he had in his Pensieve and so he had returned to Hogwarts.

It was there, yesterday, sitting in his office, when he felt the powerful wards he had applied at the Dursley's house on Privet Drive fall.

Albus arrived in Little Whinging and immediately rendezvoused with the guards on duty there, Nymphadora Tonks and Alastor Moody. Neither had seen anything remotely out of the ordinary since their shift began. In fact, after contacting the guards for the other shifts on the house, he found that nobody had seen _anything_ in nearly a week. No vehicle leaving the garage for work in the morning; no rotund, beastly boy walking to the park to terrorize others; no shrew-like woman tending garden; and, most distressingly, no Harry Potter. Fortunately, a simple magical scan of the premises revealed four bodies of reasonably healthy condition meandering through the home.

Not discounting the possibility of a trap by Tom, he ordered Aurors Tonks and Moody to accompany him into the premises. As the two magical law enforcement agents slipped under their invisibility cloaks, he Disillusioned himself and strode to the the door. Muttering a quick _Alohomora_, he opened the door and stepped into blackness.

* * *

"Hello, Headmaster."

The voice in his ear roused him. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, his gaze settled on the loveseat opposite him containing the boy destined to save the wizarding world, Harry Potter. Curled up in his lap was a very beautiful young girl, her features familiar to him but somehow... _strange_. Albus ignored the girl for the moment and tried to stand from the seat he occupied. However, he quickly found that his muscles from the neck down were unresponsive.

"Please, Albus, don't get up," Harry said, laughing at his joke as he stroked the thigh of the girl perched in his lap. "I suppose you are here about the wards," he sighed. "Of course you are, you wouldn't be here unless your plan for the greater good was threatened. What do you think, Mione," he asked the scantily clad girl on his lap.

It was then that he made the connection. The barely clad bird occupying the boy's lap was none other than Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of the age. He nearly did a double-take as he took in the normally reserved Miss Granger's new look. An extremely short skirt paired with a barely there top completed what you might call an outfit, but the real change was her hair. Gone were the curly, frizzy locks she was known for. Somehow, she had managed to tame the bushy mane into a more manageable contemporary style that made her look years older. If he didn't know her personally, he would've sworn she was well past the age of majority. "Certainly it's his plan that he's concerned with," the brilliant and beautiful witch agreed. "We know your welfare isn't one of his top priorities."

"Harry, that is quite untrue," Albus quickly stated. He needed to bring this conversation back under control, and quickly. "I have had nothing but your best..." He trailed off, distracted by a bright silver flashing coming from Miss Granger's hair. He stared intently at the crown of her head and his eyes widened in realization before he could cool his reaction.

_It couldn't be._

"Miss Granger, is that the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw upon your head?" She laughed lightly, confirming his suspicions. "The magical world has been searching for this lost artifact of the Founders for over a millennium. May I ask where you managed to locate it," he asked, trying to keep his tone light and friendly despite the adversarial conditions by which he was bound.

"You just did," Hermione replied in tone equally as light, although there was nothing friendly about it. He sensed something in there. An undercurrent running through this entire conversation.

Something **dark**.

"We retrieved the Diadem from the place where Tom Riddle left it decades ago," Harry answered for her. "The Room of Requirement. Hermione is now not only the smartest witch of the age but one of the smartest of _all time_." He kissed her softly on the neck in compliment and Hermione purred in delight.

_But that would mean-_

"We know about the Horcruxes, Headmaster. **All** of them," Harry finished darkly.

_Merlin, help me_. "Then all is lost. For, if you know of these pieces of Tom's soul, then that can only mean the battle for possession of your body is over and you and Miss Granger have been lost to the dark," he finished sadly, head hanging to his chest. "Tom has won."

"Close, Albus. So very close and, yet, so very far." Harry placed a kiss on his lover, before scooting out from under her and walking around the room. He stopped at a small rodent cage, clicking his tongue at the three gerbils scurrying through the cage in fear, before facing the older man once again. "The battle for my body is over, as you surmised, but Tom Riddle has not taken possession of me. Quite the opposite in fact. I have assimilated the piece of soul that he accidentally transferred to me when I was a baby." Albus shuddered at the thought of such terrible magic, an act Harry did not miss. "You think I have been corrupted, don't you?" Albus nodded. "The difference between dark and evil magic, _Headmaster_," he sneered, "is in the purpose. I use these skills I have gained, not for nefarious deeds or subjugating others, but for one purpose: Killing Tom Riddle." Harry reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, black stone. "I'm sure you know what this is, don't you, Albus," he asked, holding the stone to the seated man's face for inspection.

"The Resurrection Stone," he breathed in surprise.

"Indeed." Harry nodded in agreement, placing the stone back in his pocket. "I found it in the floorboards of Tom's paternal family home. You were correct in thinking that Tom used his old family heirloom to contain a piece of his soul."

"But, it is whole. Unmarred," Dumbledore stuttered in confusion.

"Correct once again, Headmaster," Hermione spoke up. "So is the Diadem. And so is Harry." She joined him in standing in front of the man they had respected until a few days ago, wrapping herself around her lover.

Albus was having trouble keeping this conversation from running away from him. "How were you able to remove the soul without destroying the object?"

"Professor, I have all the knowledge of the one who created them." Harry pointed at his head. "The memories of the master of this form of dark magic are up here." That was all Albus needed. With a twinkle in his eye, the old wizard used his considerable prowess as a Legilimens to force his way into the poor boy's mind and shut him down for good. He was completely unprepared for what followed.

The force of an Occlumency barrier falling in Harry's mind forcefully expelled the educator from his former playground and blew him backwards off of his seat. Since the paralysis had not been removed from his body, he struck the living room wall behind him with some force, breaking his arm. With a sigh, Hermione waved her wand, returning the immobile Headmaster to the replaced chair and knitting together the broken bone. At a snap of her fingers, the dazed and concussed professor returned to the land of the waking with a very dignified, "Huh?"

"I wouldn't recommend doing that again, Professor," she offered, replacing herself on the loveseat. "Harry is a Master Occlumens now. Part of the knowledge he gained from his passenger," she finished, looking admiringly upon her lover. Harry smiled in response, rejoining her on the seat and giving her another kiss.

"Isn't she great," he asked Albus, after breaking the lip lock. "After removing the soul fragment from the diadem, I knew it belonged on her head. Now, with the most intelligent witch in over a millennium at my side, Tom doesn't stand a chance. Ironic, isn't it Albus," he asked the staring old man. "The poor sod has no idea that what he did to me on that Halloween night all those years ago has led to me becoming the most powerful wizard since Merlin."

Dumbledore tried one more time to get through to the boy. The boy he had failed. "Harry, you must realize this is madness. You have been corrupted by your possession. Let me help you. I can take you to a mind healer that might be able to assist you in removing this stain from your soul." He held out hope that he would be able to get through to the boy that once trusted him long enough to give him a peaceful rest.

That hope was dashed as he saw the sad shake of the head Hermione gave to her lover. "I had hoped that it would not go this way," Harry began morosely. "I told Hermione that, even after locking me up with the Dursleys for all these years and consistently placing me and my friends in harm's way year after year, you would still want what's best for me. She, in all her mighty wisdom, disagreed. Seems I owe her a galleon." He stood once more from the chair he shared with his girl, a heavy weight seemingly on his shoulders. "I'm very sorry to have to do this, Albus, but I have no other choice. After all, you wanted worse for me." He pointed his wand at the man he used to trust.

"Harry, what happened to the Dursleys? To Nymphadora and Alastor," Albus asked, hoping to delay what was coming long enough to formulate an escape plan.

Harry laughed. "Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and _ickle Duddykins_ are experiencing the other side of the coin." A flick of his wrist brought the gerbil cage from earlier sailing into view. Harry tapped his finger along the cage again, eliciting a chorus of loud squeaks. Staring closely, Albus could see two fat gerbils and one skinny one huddled in the corner of the tiny cage, shivering. "At least I'm providing them with unlimited food, drink, and exercise. The cage will be removed to St. Mungo's upon our departure." He tilted his head in thought. "Maybe Uncle Vernon will bite someone and they'll be left like this." He shook his head, dismissing the thought. Another swish of his wand and the cage was back where it was before. "As for Tonks and Moody, milady," he said, nodding to a blushing Hermione, "was gracious enough to provide them with a small memory charm. They will remember nothing of your arrival here."

"And the Ministry," Albus asked, interrupting as Harry brought his wand back up to point in the headmaster's face. "Surely there are post owls en route carrying multiple notices of violating the Underage Use of Magic. How will you get out of those? You need my assistance in removing yourself from this mess, my boy."

"Albus, you are trying my patience," Harry ground out. "Surely you know of the charms that are out there that one can use to disguise his magical signature? There are other, more permanent, methods even you have no knowledge of that have been lost to time. It is not nearly that hard to hide oneself from the Ministry if one tries." Hermione stood then, grabbing his hand and whispering in his ear. "Hermione is correct, it is time. There can be no more delays." Harry stepped away from Albus and lifted his wand, causing the headmaster to rise and float into the air.

"What will you do, Harry? Surely an old man such as myself is no threat to a couple of wizards and witches as powerful as yourselves."

Harry chuckled lightly, without humor. "You know, Albus, that's what I always liked about you. Your never quit attitude. Always planning to the last second. I'll always remember that." He began to move his wand in a complex pattern as Hermione began to chant. "I'm binding your magic, Albus."

His heart dropped like a stone. "You... you can't!"

"I can and I am. You have proven by your manipulations that you cannot be trusted with this gift any longer. The world will mourn your loss for awhile, and rightfully so. You were a great fighter for the Light and you have accomplished many great deeds. That can never be ignored and it is what is saving you from a horrible death right now. However," he continued, his wand movements speeding and light beginning to trail from the tip, "it cannot be ignored that you left me in this building to suffer abuse, both verbal and physical, for _ten years_ without checking on me one single time. Your invariable disregard for my safety while here and at Hogwarts, along with your continued manipulation of mine and my parents' lives for your 'greater good' is your undoing. You have no one to blame but yourself for this mess." Harry shook his head in sadness. "Believe me when I tell you that doing this brings me no joy."

"Then stop," Albus shouted, near hysterics. "Please, Harry. This is too much!"

"I disagree. In fact, Hermione suggested we kill you, but I thought I owed you more than that. With your defeat, I become the master of the Elder Wand and the true Master of Death," he said, showing Albus the aforementioned item. "Tom and his Horcruxes stand no chance." He pocketed the wand and continued his movements. Hermione's chanting grew louder.

Albus began to cry. The loss of his magic was too much to comprehend. He couldn't take losing something that he had lived with his whole life! He would perish for sure. The last thing he heard before the darkness took him was Harry's voice.

"Be easy, Albus. At your age, it was surely only a short time before you moved on to the next great adventure anyway."

* * *

A/N: So, yeah. My first foray in HP fanfic. Done! I was pretty happy with it but I'd like to know what you guys think. Send me a review if you have a question or a comment or if you just want to say hi. I respond to em all. Thanks for reading!

AZ


	4. Wisdom & Witches

_Three Days Earlier_

It wasn't necessarily that she disliked flying, Hermione mused as she soared over the Earth. In fact, she actually _liked_ the sight of the ground speeding by, far below her. Nor was a fear of heights the reason for her nervousness. Hermione wasn't scared of much, and she certainly wasn't afraid of being high up in the air. The thing with flying, the thing that had always set her teeth on edge, was the lack of control she had when on a broomstick.

If there was one thing Hermione Granger abhorred, it was a lack of control.

The thrice-damned magical flying apparatuses just _knew_, she felt, that she was as nervous as a first year under the Sorting Hat every time she straddled a broom and tried their damnedest to make her flight as difficult as it could. She had heard people say that brooms could sense when their rider was unsure of themselves and would become harder to rein in when an inexperienced or nervous flier was mounted on them. Brooms seemed to have a mind of their own and Hermione was sure they conspired against her the second she ordered one to obey her commands.

Of course, none of these things mattered if you were sitting in the lap of one of the best broom fliers in recent memory, screwing him for all you were worth, while flying hundreds of feet over the ground. While Hermione was loathe to give up control in most situations, a word from Harry was enough to set her resolve to crumbling. It was an unusual turn of events for the witch who was known for using logic to batter her verbal sparring partners into submission, but she quickly found that, when it came to her lover, she would do anything for him. Anything, including fucking him on a broom as they flew towards Hogwarts.

"Fuck, Harry. I'm cumming," she exclaimed as her orgasm began to break upon the shores. She lay back upon the broomstick and stared up into Harry's eyes, the cushioning charm working near capacity to keep the two teens comfortable in the awkward position they found themselves in. Since she could no longer use her leverage to work her lover towards orgasm, Hermione flexed the muscles in her vaginal walls and began to milk Harry's cock. A couple short seconds later and, with a cry of her name, Harry finished inside of her. Neither were aware of the steady loss of altitude that followed the completion of their orgasms. When Hermione and Harry were both sufficiently recovered from their amorous activities, they finally noticed that Harry's Firebolt had set down just outside of Hogsmeade, the perfect location to begin their infiltration of the ancient Scottish castle they lived in for the majority of the year. After catching their breath, both carefully dismounted, with Harry shrinking and stowing the broomstick in his robes.

"Merlin, Harry," Hermione exclaimed as she fixed her windblown hair. The frizzy mess was always in the way and she resolved to take care of it as soon as possible. Maybe something shorter and more stylish and with a hot wardrobe to go along to personify her new... _perspective_ on life. Speaking of...

"Harry, what's going on with us?" She pulled her lover to a stop behind Honeydukes, their intended insertion point into Hogwarts. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but we've changed rather significantly. All we've done for the past few hours is shag like a couple of rabid bunnies."

"You'd rather we shagged like something else? Randy elephants, maybe," he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Prat," she said, rolling her eyes. "You know what I mean. Before tonight, I was a virgin. Don't get me wrong, I love being with you and I wouldn't trade what we have for anything, but sex with you wasn't really occupying my every waking moment like it does now. Not to mention your attitude change. Again, I'm not complaining. I _love_ the new, more confident Harry Potter." Hermione leaned into him, whispering in his ear. "Listening to you give orders makes me wet," she said huskily before softly biting his earlobe and straightening back up. "Do you see what I mean? I can't go two minutes without wanting to push you to the ground and mount you. We're like two completely different people now," she finished softly.

Harry stared into her eyes for a moment, before nodding and placing a kiss on her forehead. "I suppose I do owe you an explanation. We're going to be together for a long time and I can't seem to keep secrets from you, anyway." He grinned at her cheekily and she replied with a small smile. "Let's wait until we get into the tunnel that leads to Hogwarts. I don't want to take the chance that someone will overhear us."

Hermione nodded in agreement and Harry pulled his invisibility cloak from his pocket to conceal them under. "You never could keep things from me very well, could you," she asked impishly. Harry hesitated in placing the cloak over their bodies, raising a questioning eyebrow at her.

"Don't think for a second that I didn't know you were going to ask me to the Yule Ball before Ronald said something stupid. Of course, I was already going with Viktor, but I would have _seriously_ considered telling him to sod off if you would've asked me. And that compromising position Rita caught us in that same year? I could feel your hands beginning to wander before that camera went off."

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock. "You little minx! I figured I had done a good job keeping those thoughts to myself. How did you..."

"Please, Harry," she said contemptuously, grabbing the cloak from his still hands and pulling it over their bodies. "Let's just say that teenage boys' emotions aren't _that_ difficult to read and leave it at that. Now, Honeydukes?" Harry shook off his stupor and led the way to the door of Hogsmeade's famous sweet shop. As they entered, the bell above the door tinkled, announcing their arrival. Mrs. Flume, who was working the counter, looked up and frowned when she failed to notice a new customer. Hermione pulled Harry over to the only other occupant of the store, a middle aged witch, and kicked the display next to her to the ground. The action caught the attention of the woman behind the counter, as well as the patron, and both rushed to clean up the mess, leaving the door to the backroom unattended. Just as Harry reached out to touch the knob, the door was opened from the other side and Ambrosius Flume exited. Harry and Hermione used the small window of opportunity to sneak through before he closed the door behind him and they quickly ran down to the cellar.

"So," Hermione began slowly, as she closed the trapdoor leading to the hidden tunnel into Hogwarts, "you were saying something about an explanation?" She removed her wand to light up the tunnel, but Harry stopped her before she could say the spell.

"You don't want to do that with the trace still on you," Harry offered from the darkness and, with a click, a bright beam of light lit the pitch-black corridor. "I thought _you_ were supposed to be the smart one," he said, waving the flashlight in front of the girl. Hermione huffed in response. "Right, so... an explanation." He took her hand and led the way down the earthy passage, the beam from the flashlight cutting their way through the gloom. "Well, I had been having some wicked dreams since I got back to Privet Drive for the summer, but the night that changed everything for us I had a terrible nightmare about the Department of Mysteries..."

_**Later**_

"When I woke up, I could tell something was different. The piece of Tom's soul said that I would still be Harry Potter, but what he neglected to mention is that, by absorbing his splintered slice of soul, I would in effect be assimilating what made Tom, Tom. His characteristics, his memories, every piece of his being contained in that soul shard became a part of me. Nothing too dark, I don't think, but it has definitely made me more confident and dominating. I finally know what it is exactly that I want and I'm not afraid to step on any toes to go after it," he finished, staring in to Hermione's eyes.

"And what of me," she asked. "I'm guessing that your... _encounter_ coincided with the first night of my erotic dreams?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm still not sure what caused that connection. Nothing in the power Tom's shard gave me has any relation to what has been happening between us the past few days. The only thing I can think of is that the nightmare from that night somehow allowed my subconscious to connect with yours through my dreams and influence you." He shrugged. "I'm still working on it, although I think you might have a better idea after we leave here."

"Oh?" Hermione's curiosity was piqued. "You still haven't told me what it is that we're doing here. Are we going to get help from Professor Dumbledore?" She regretted asking the question immediately, as Harry shook off her hand as if burned and turned angry green eyes on her.

"That old fool will **never** have any say in our lives again. **Ever**."

"I'm sorry," she offered meekly. He seemed to understand he had scared her and calmed his features.

"It's fine," he said, stroking her cheek softly and retaking her hand, soothing her once more. "I didn't want to tell you this until I had a chance to investigate whether it's true or not, but the shard told me that Dumbledore has been planning my death."

This time, Hermione dropped Harry's hand. Not in anger, however, but in shock. She covered her mouth, horrified. "Why would he do that?! I thought he cared about you?"

"Well, that's kind of the reason we're here," he said, stopping as they reached the end of the passage. "The shard said that Voldemort had intentionally split his soul into six pieces and stored them in objects so that he would be immortal. You already know that, after he murdered my dad and then my mum, Tom turned his wand on me. My mum's sacrifice caused the killing curse he meant for me to rebound back at him. From his memories I've learned that murder, as the ultimate act of evil, is required to create a Horcrux. When Tom killed my folks, and since he had already split his soul multiple times, the small piece that remained became very unstable. The rebounding curse hit him, it splintered off a bit of what remained of his soul and he was destroyed. With his body destroyed and his spirit scattered, the piece of soul took residence in the only living thing left in the room: Me," Harry finished morosely and hung his head. He was unprepared for Hermione taking him into her arms and assaulting him with a kiss. They stayed that way for a long moment and both took comfort in the embrace of their lover before breaking the hold.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she said after calming enough to talk. She discretely wiped her wet cheeks dry. "After everything you've been through in your life so far, for Dumbledore to do this to you..." Hermione shook her head and trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. "So the headmaster thinks that you have to die for this piece of soul to be destroyed?"

Harry nodded and smiled. "I knew my subconscious called the smartest witch of the age to my side for a reason. As part of the assimilation of the soul piece in me, the Horcrux no longer exists. I think the shard somehow knew that Dumbledore had been orchestrating my death ever since he found out about Tom splitting his soul and unintentionally placing a piece in me."

"Well, that's just dumb. Surely he could have found other ways of getting rid of this Horcrux thing," Hermione ground out, frowning. "I'm guessing we're here to remove another one of these soul pieces?"

"Correct," Harry said, "although I'd like to think of it as getting a gift for the girl I'm shagging."

Hermione's eyes brightened in anticipation. "Ooh, a gift? What is it?" Harry chuckled at the turn in her mood.

"Now, now. I refuse to spoil the surprise." He spread the cloak out again and the two got underneath as Harry removed his father's map from his pocket. With a quick muttering of the key phrase, the Marauder's Map began to show on the parchment. After he and Hermione quickly scanned it and found the castle empty, save for a few professors sleeping soundly in their living quarters, Harry tapped the area to move the statue blocking the tunnel aside and they entered the third floor corridor. The two silently made their way into the Grand Staircase where they were surprised to find every set of stairs in a permanent stationary position.

"Handy," Hermione quietly muttered. "Maybe, since there aren't any students here, the stairs don't move."

"At least we won't have to wait for them to get into position," Harry agreed. "It'll make getting to the seventh floor a lot faster." They started up the stairs, still moving quickly but quietly. As they reached the fourth floor landing, Hermione dragged him off into a corridor.

"Come on," she said before Harry could voice his objections. "If we're going to the seventh floor, I know of a much quicker way to get there than taking the stairs all the way up." She opened a thick wooden door and they found themselves in a small room containing a few bookshelves and tables. A handful of paintings and tapestries hanging from the stone walls provided a bit of decoration to the harsh rock walls. The furnishing was completed with a few large armchairs and overstuffed couches scattered throughout the room.

"What is this place," Harry asked as he took in the comfortable looking room.

"It's a small library and study room I found in our third year," Hermione explained, fondly running her hand across the spines of the books occupying one of the shelves. "Not many students know about this room so I could always count on it being a quiet place to relax when things got to be a little too _hairy_," she finished with a cheeky smile at her lover.

"Too... oh, you little tart," Harry groaned. He joined her at the bookcase she was inspecting. "Anything good in here?" His eyes roaming the books displayed, a design on one caught his eye. "Oh? What's this?" Something about the triangle-like pattern on the spine of the book nudged at his memory. "Do you recognize this book," he asked Hermione. She shook her head but Harry wasn't to be deterred. "I know this symbol from somewhere. I'm taking the book with us," he finished, his tone brooking no argument. Hermione briefly glared at him but said nothing when he pocketed the ancient tome, entitled _The Deathly Hallows: Searching for the Truth_.

"I knew I never brought you here for a reason," Hermione sighed. "Come on, the hidden passage is behind this bookshelf." After a quick check of the map, the two donned the Invisibility Cloak once again and slipped through the partially hidden passageway behind the bookcase they had just been perusing. A couple short steps later brought them to a tapestry covering the exit from the tunnel. Moving that aside, they found themselves in the seventh floor corridor.

"No matter how much time I spend here, I'll never get used to the way this castle works," Harry said, shaking his head. "We just walked out of the fourth floor and now we're on the seventh."

"Magic. What are you gonna do? So should we head towards the Room of Requirement," Hermione asked innocently.

Harry stared at her, gobsmacked. "How do you keep doing that?"

"Really, Harry," she said, rolling her eyes. "Where else would Tom hide something and expect that it not be found?"

"Point taken," he said as they clambered out from behind the wall hanging. "Let's get moving. I don't want to spend any more time here than we have to." He checked the map once again and, finding all was well, they crept down the hall to the blank section of wall where they knew the Room of Requirement could be summoned.

"I need to summon the room," Harry said, handing her the map. "Keep a lookout, will you?" Hermione nodded and Harry stepped out from under the cloak, quickly pacing in front of the blank expanse of wall three times. When the door appeared, Hermione threw off the cloak and the two swept into the Room of Hidden Things.

They were immediately surprised by the amount of... _crap_ in the room. Littered with broken furniture, discarded books, musty and out of style clothing, the place seemed more like the Room of Trash than anything else. "Sweet Merlin," Harry muttered. "We're looking for a diadem. Do you know what that is?" Hermione gave him a patronizing look. "Right. Well, specifically we're looking for the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Do you mean to tell me that the lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the objects of the Founders, has been hidden in Hogwarts for however long by Tom _fucking_ Riddle?" Harry nodded. "Just making sure I have that right. Well," she continued slowly, "I suppose it would be too much to ask that we could summon it?" Harry nodded again. "Of course. Tom couldn't make it too easy, now could he?" She looked around, her finger on her lip, deep in thought. Where would one hide a crown, whose worth was beyond value, that contained a piece of one's own soul if one were an evil, subhuman dark wizard? She came up with nothing. There were simply too many places to search.

"Wait," Harry's voice called from behind her. "I think... I think I can feel it." His eyes closed in concentration, Harry held his head softly. "Over there," he said, pointing in the direction of a particularly large stack of, in Hermione's eyes, useless junk. But there, at the very top, was a plain looking bust.

Something shiny and silver was perched upon the head of the bust. Something that looked remarkably like a crown.

"I think I might see it. On the bust there," she said pointing at the top of the pile. "Here, I have an idea," Hermione said, pulling her wand from her pocket. "Accio Bust holding diadem," she called out, waving her wand in the direction of the priceless artifact of the Founders. The stated item quickly flew through the air at her and only a quick _Aresto Momentum_ saved her from being laid out by the speeding stone sculpture. She stared at the silver crown on the head as it lowered itself to the ground and just _knew_ that this was it. The knowledge contained in that piece of jewelry...

Hermione had trouble wrapping her mind around the concept. She reached for the diadem, wanting to feel the wisdom of Rowena Ravenclaw for herself.

"No," Harry screamed from behind her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back into his embrace. "You can't touch it yet, love," he explained softly as he released her hand. He turned back to the bust a few feet away, staring intently at it. "Something is... _wrong_. I feel Tom's presence in there, gnashing and evil. There is another presence, though." He scrunched up his face in thought. "Something lighter. Something older. I think," he said slowly, "it is what Rowena left behind in her diadem to give it its properties. And it has been in battle with Tom's Horcrux for a long time."

Harry placed his fingers closely together near the large sapphire in the middle of the front of the diadem. As Hermione watched in amazement, pieces of red light began to stream from the blue sapphire to form a small shard of red light pinched between Harry's fingers. He held it up to her eyes to inspect. "That's what Tom's soul looks like," she asked in amazement.

"A small piece of his soul," Harry said, nodding. He looked around and found a small piece of rubble, placing it in his hand. "I need your help now, Hermione. Transfigure this piece of stone into the least dangerous living organism you can think of." Startled by the request, she took a few moments to think of something that fit both criteria. "Quickly, love," Harry interrupted. "The fragment is becoming hard to control."

Hermione's eyes widened. She had it. With a quick grin to Harry, she levitated the piece of stone to the ground. A swish and flick later, and the small bit of rock became a tiny mouse, reminding them both of a long ago class. Another flick of her want levitated the tittering mouse back over to Harry.

"Keep it levitated," he asked her, "and be ready for anything." With that, he brought his pinched fingers holding the soul fragment into contact with the mouse.

The small mammal immediately began to writhe and twist, as well as making the most inhumane screaming noise Hermione had ever heard before. She nearly released the mouse from its entrapment before it suddenly stopped all movement and noise. "Is it dead?" Hermione leaned in closer to inspect the tiny creature before it started moving again. "I guess not," she said, answering herself. She noticed Harry rubbing his forehead, right where his scar was, and asked him what was wrong.

"The soul fragment has possessed the mouse," he said, dropping his hand. "Tom is trying to use it to attack me." Harry pointed his own wand at the mouse, who screeched and scrabbled furiously to do any sort of harm that it could to the young wizard. "Avada Kedavra," he said forcefully, jabbing his wand. A bright, green beam flashed at the small rodent, illuminating it before it finally stilled its movements. "There, that should-" He was interrupted by a loud roar coming from the once-dead mouse. The formerly cute little white animal was now snarling and snapping. Luckily, Hermione had kept the Levitation Charm on the rodent and it was unable to move. "Sorry," Harry offered apologetically. "I forgot to tell you that there's a little backlash when you destroy a Horcrux. The diary did something similar when I destroyed that one." The twisting and snapping soon calmed as Harry said it would, and a quick flame spell from his wand destroyed the mouse's body for good.

Hermione walked back over to the diadem laying on the ground and looked up at Harry. He nodded in response to her unasked question and she finally got to hold the diadem. She stared at the large blue, almost purple, gem and got lost in its depths. "Can I put it on now," she asked plaintively.

Gazing at the diadem cradled in her hands, Harry rubbed his chin. "It's yours, my love." He held up a finger as she raised the circlet to place on her head. "Be aware, Hermione; this diadem is enchanted with ancient magic. I can promise you that Tom didn't place any protections on it but I can't vouch for the presence Rowena left. Tom was extremely upset when the diadem deemed him unworthy of the knowledge it contained and the Horcrux within showed. The presence in there fought its possession by Tom's piece of soul for many years but I'm not sure what effect that has had on it. It's not entirely out of the realm of possibility that it may have gained some form of sentience." He lifted her chin in his hand and stared with those beautiful green eyes right into her soul. "I say this to you because I care for you very much, my love, and I want you to go into this with every advantage I can give you. This diadem will test you harder than you have ever been tested and I know that you can succeed where Tom didn't." He softly stroked her cheek with his thumb, moving onto her lips as she melted into his touch. "You, my Hermione, are the brightest witch I've ever known. This gift was meant for you, and only you, and has been waiting for you since Tom discarded it here."

Touched with emotion for the boy she had truly loved since he had saved her from a troll back in their first year at the school, she leaned in and captured his lips with her own. "Harry, my heart, I love you so much," she said, breaking off the kiss. Hermione raised the diadem above her head. "I will prove your faith in me, I promise."

As she placed the diadem on the crown of her head, she fell once more into the deep pools of emerald that were Harry's eyes. It was while gazing into those eyes that she fell unconscious.

_***Unconsciousness***_

_Hello, Hermione Jean Granger._

Who's there? Where am I?

_I am the Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw and we are in your mind. I intend to conduct a test to see whether or not you are worthy of the wisdom I possess._

What if I am not found worthy?

_Do not worry about that, my dear. None would be more worthy than a descendent of Ravenclaw._

A descendent of-

_It matters little, my dear, and it is time to begin. Good luck, Hermione Granger._

* * *

A/N: Yeah, I know, this is supposed to be completed. The story kept bugging me, though. These scenes kept popping into my head. What else was I supposed to do? I think there's one more chapter. Maybe. Also, why do people add story alerts to already completed stories? I mean, it worked out this time, but what's the point? Okay, well, thanks for reading.

AZ


	5. Bird Brain

****A/N: I feel like I should put a disclaimer here. I own nothing Harry Potter related. There. Also, I had a guest, ak, who sent me a review in French, which I don't speak. Thanks to the magic of the internet I can respond _Ginny n'est pas possédé. Elle jouera un rôle plus tard dans l'histoire, cependant. Merci pour la revue intéressante!_

* * *

**Hermione...**

**It's time to wake up, love.**

The words in a voice so familiar to her caused her eyes to flutter and open. What Hermione found when she opened them wasn't the Room of Lost Things, the place she last remembered being. Upon closer inspection, it seemed that she was in the Gryffindor common room. A fire was blazing in the large fireplace, which seemed odd to her, as it was the middle of the summer and quite unnecessary.

**Hello, beloved.**

She quickly gained her feet, her head whipping around, looking for the source of the voice which, oddly enough, seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. "Harry," she asked, for she knew her lover's voice when she heard it. "Where are you?"

**Upstairs**, the voice echoed, still strangely coming from no particular place. **I'm in my dorm.**

Hermione made her way up the stairs to the room that had housed the boys from their year for the past five school terms. As she opened the door, she found Harry leaning against the window, gazing out upon the school grounds. Something was strange about him though. He was Harry but, at the same time, he wasn't. His features seemed more sinister than normal, making him look years older. His hair, if possible, had to be an even darker shade of black than it was before. The light around him appeared to be absorbed by his presence. "You look...," she trailed off, looking for the right word in her mind.

_Stygian. Atramentous. Shadowy. Swarthy. Adumbral. Bistered._ The words flooded her mind and only by shaking her head was she able to clear it. "You look different," she finally finished, scolding herself mentally for her inability to put her thoughts into words. However, her lover continued staring out of the window as if he hadn't heard a word she said. "Harry?"

**Different?** This time there could be no mistake about it, she was sure Harry's lips hadn't moved when he responded. **Yes, I am different than I was before.** He finally turned and Hermione had to stifle a gasp. His eyes, she thought to herself. Those lovely, gorgeous eyes.

Harry's viridian orbs were literally _glowing_.

**You are changed as well, my love. Have you not looked upon yourself since we arrived here**? Hermione shook her head. **Your exposure to the diadem has changed you just as my assimilation of Tom's soul piece has changed me. Look.** Harry made a tiny circle in the air with his finger. A pocket-sized mirror appeared in his hand.

Hermione was about to comment on Harry's apparently new ability to perform wandless and non-verbal magic simultaneously when the voice in her head interrupted again. _You are not stupid, girl, so cease acting like it. Have you not yet figured out where we are?_ We, she asked herself. _Yes, we. Look into the mirror your lover has conjured and you will understand._ Hermione did as the voice in her head bade and was startled at what she saw.

The girl staring back at her with wide eyes from the polished surface was almost completely unfamiliar to her. Her lengthy, curly brown hair was no longer. Instead, her locks were a dark black that nearly matched Harry's. And never again would she be forced to deal with the frizzy mess that was her mane. The luscious, _straight_ brown locks were lopped off at her shoulders, creating a beautiful style that she had been thinking of adopting earlier. Her hair was not the only change. Formerly hazel, her eyes now shone a brilliant cerulean with flecks of gold distributed throughout. They reminded her of the brilliant blue sapphire in... "The diadem," she moaned.

_Is right here_, the voice from her head whispered. This time however, the beautiful voice came not from inside her, but from right next to her. She looked to her right and was surprised to see a brown eagle perched upon her shoulder. Evidence quickly began to arrange itself in an orderly fashion in her mind and she finally connected all of the dots. "We're not actually in your dorm, are we Harry?"

The dark form before her chuckled as he made the mirror disappear. **No, my dear, we are not. We are in your mind. I was concerned when you fell unconscious and decided to use my skills as a _Legilimens_ to see how your test was progressing.** He smiled as he walked to her, taking her hands in his. **I am pleased to see that you were successful in taking the knowledge of the diadem for yourself.**

"Thank you, my love," Hermione said, her head bowed in submission. She turned to the large bird of prey perched on her collarbone. _I would venture a guess that you are the presence that Harry detected in the diadem fighting with the piece of Tom's soul. What are you doing in my mind?_

The eagle nipped affectionately at her ear, pleased that she had guessed what it was. _Surely you don't think that Rowena would enchant her favorite piece of jewelry to only enhance the wisdom of the wearer when it was on their head? When you placed the diadem on your head and I found you worthy, we were joined in your subconscious. As you and your mate are playing in your mind, I appear as a separate entity._

_What about when we're not playing around in my subconscious_, she mentally asked the bird. _Will I always seem to be conversing with someone in my head?_ Harry laughed uproariously as she thought this, causing her to look at him in confusion. "What are you laughing at?"

**You.** The effect of his voice speaking without moving his lips was unnerving and Hermione had to remind herself that Harry was actually in her mind and the Master Legilimens needed no words to converse. **I have been conversing with the presence while it completed its transfer into your mind. When we reenter the physical realm, the connection between you and the entity will be complete. You will be as one and you will possess all the knowledge that it can give you.** Harry took her into his arms, holding her tight. **Once we leave this place, there is no going back.**

"I understand, love," Hermione said into his lips as she finished with a soft kiss. She turned back to the eagle, who had left her shoulder and perched itself on the nearby window ledge. _What about me will you be changing?_

She was certain the bird was delighted at the question. It bobbed its head up and down and, if it could have, she was sure it would've laughed. _Wonderful question. As I am nothing more than knowledge my mistress enchanted her diadem with many years ago, the only thing I can _change_ is the knowledge you have access to. Who you become and what you do with the knowledge I leave you is your decision._ The eagle hopped back on her shoulder as she separated from Harry.

_And what about my hair? My eyes_?_ You can't tell me that all you are is knowledge when I look completely different than I did before I put the diadem on my head._

_The changes to your appearance you see here are the proof of your heritage. Whether they make the transition to the physical realm is up to you. Although it would seem_, it added snidely as it noticed her playing with her new short hairstyle, _that you have already made that decision._

Hermione harrumphed and rolled her eyes at the arrogant eagle. _Insufferable bird. What about your long battle with Voldemort's soul shard? How do I know that you weren't corrupted by the presence of his soul in there with you?_

**I can answer that**, Harry's voice answered. **There is actually nothing to corrupt in the diadem. The battle that Tom fought with it was for the possession of the knowledge contained inside. Thankfully, Rowena's charms were strong enough to fend off the soul piece until now, although I'm not sure how long that would have continued.**

_I'm glad we found this when we did, then. _The bird preened and nipped her finger as she reached up to stroke its beautiful feathers. _I think I am ready_, she said to nobody in particular.

Harry took her back into his arms and placed a kiss on her forehead. **Then it's time to wake up, Hermione.**

**Wake up, Hermione.**

**Wake up**

…

"Wake up, Hermione."

Harry's voice in her ear woke her just as it did in her earlier in her mind and her eyes lightly fluttered as they opened. Her new gold-flecked blue eyes stared into his bright emerald ones and she smiled as he stroked her hair, which was shortening, straightening and darkening as he ran his fingers through it. "Everything okay," he softly asked her.

"Better than okay," Hermione purred in contentment as she pulled Harry down for a deep kiss. She finally broke the lip lock after a long duel between their tongues. "I feel _amazing_."

A wave of her hand and every stitch of clothing on her body disappeared. "I want to feel even better. Fuck me, Harry." She kissed him again, more violently this time, and bit his lip softly as she withdrew. "_Hard_."

_**Later**_

The two young adults lay in each others' arms, stretched out on an old sofa that someone had abandoned to the Room long ago. A quick _Scourgify_ had removed the years of dust and grime that had accumulated on the surprisingly soft couch and the teens were grateful for the comfortable surface on which to screw each others' brains out. Harry was pleased that the day and, more specifically, Hermione's joining with the diadem had gone so well. When he had received the memory of Tom being rejected by the enchanted crown, he was concerned that it would do the same to his love. Imagine his surprise when he entered her mind during the trance to find out that his mate was a descendent of Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Of course, with Hermione's vast intellect, it should really have been obvious. The aforementioned witch stirred in his arms, finally waking from her short nap. "Sleep well, lover," he asked the beautiful young woman curled into him.

"Exceptionally," Hermione stated emphatically, placing a kiss on Harry's bare chest for good measure. "I've been going over some things in my mind since the joining," she began. "We need a way to be able to use our magic without the trace activating."

"I've been thinking about that, too," Harry agreed. "The only working solution I can come up with is using a time-turner to go back in time and live a year to age ourselves to 17." He held up a hand to forestall her objections. "I'm aware of the difficulties in procuring that device and I think I speak for both of us when I say I'm unwilling to go through the past year all over again."

"Fortuitously for us, Rowena knew of a permanent aging potion, knowledge of which has since been lost. It will take me the better part of today to brew. You're fortunate that I have access to all of the knowledge that my ancestor did, lover. Merlin, the things flowing through my head..." She moaned, eyes closed in contentment, before meeting Harry's gaze once again. "You've given so much to me, my beloved. There is nothing I can do to make up for what you have done for me throughout the years but I swear to you right now that I am yours, forever, if you will have me."

Harry was beyond touched. He was serious when he promised her forever in her house, but this was beyond that. What Hermione was proposing was the equivalent of a magically binding oath. If he accepted then there would be no separating. They would be one for all time.

It was hardly a choice for him.

"There's nothing I could desire more, my love," he replied, stroking her cheek. A white glow surrounded the two of them and quickly faded into their bodies. "The bond has completed." Harry kissed her passionately, in celebration of their joining. Hermione snuggled into him, which caused a rather pleasurable reaction. He groaned and broke off the kiss. "As much as I would love to ravage you again, I believe that we have some business to attend to."

Huffing in frustration, Hermione disentangled herself from her life-mate. "You're no fun," she pouted, standing from the couch. Reveling in her nudity, she ran her hands slowly over her body. "Anytime you want me, Harry, my body is yours to do with as you please." She winked at him and placed one final, chaste kiss upon his lips before straightening and assuming the pose that Harry termed 'classic Hermione': wand on her chin, lip chewed in concentration, eyes screwed up in thought. It was nice to know that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same, he thought to himself. "First thing's first," she began. "We need clothes." She closed her eyes for a moment and a sheer, black low-cut peasant top appeared on her upper body.

"Exceptional use of conjuration," Harry murmured. "Using the room to make clothes to your specification. Impressive."

Hermione blushed in response. "Thank you, beloved." She looked down at the top and noticed her lack of an undergarment. "If I go without a bra, I'm going to need some support." With those words, a black, buckled leather corset materialized in place under her bust. "Not enough," she muttered to herself. "Maybe... ah, yes. That would do it." Hermione traced a line with her wand from the top of the corset, around her breasts, behind her neck and back again. Where her wand traveled, leather followed, forming a halter top style support for the corset and, incidentally, creating an impressive amount of cleavage by pushing her breasts up and together.

Harry stared for a long moment before he realized that Hermione was speaking to him. "W-what?"

"Boys." She rolled her eyes. "I was asking what you thought of it but I think I already know. I don't have to ask if you'd rather I wore pants or a skirt, do I?" Harry quickly shook his head and a short, ruffled black skirt appeared around her waist. "Maybe something naughty to finish it off," she said with a smirk. Black fishnets grew from her toes up to the tops of her legs, where they were quickly hidden by the bottom of the skirt. Harry got the briefest glimpse of a sexy garter belt hidden up there before his attention was captured by the appearance of some knee high leather boots.

"It's very beautiful," Harry acknowledged. "It's also really... _black_. Maybe a little color," he offered.

Hermione looked back down at her outfit and groaned in frustration. "Ugh, I look like Bellatrix Lestrange." She twirled her wand around the baggy sleeves of her top and blue designs began to appear on the formerly black sleeves. After a similar treatment to her skirt, Harry nodded his approval.

"Perfect, my sexy little wench." He gestured down at his current state of undress. "My turn." Exerting his will upon the room they were in, an unremarkable pair of briefs were the first to appear, followed shortly by a white button up shirt, on which he promptly rolled up the sleeves. A dark pair of trousers were next, into which the shirt was tucked. A blood red tie followed by a black double-breasted waistcoat completed his ensemble.

"Forget something," Hermione asked, humor in her tone. He followed her pointed finger to his bare feet. Harry shrugged, gave a small smile and requested the room provide him with a pair of socks and black dress shoes, which quickly appeared on his feet. "Very dashing, my love. Now, we need to leave and reset the room. I'm going to need space and ingredients to brew this potion, neither of which are available here."

"_Accio Invisibility Cloak_," Harry called, the unseeable garment flying across the room and into his hand. "We should get moving. There are more Horcruxes to destroy before we can confront Tom. Preparations must be made in case of interference by Dumbledore."

"We will need assistance," Hermione added as they donned the camouflaging clothing. "Someone who knows Tom and his allies and can help us destroy him."

"You already have a candidate in mind, I'm guessing?"

A dark smirk was her only reply.

* * *

A/N 2: This story is really getting away from me. I had only planned on adding a couple extra chapters to flesh out the ending for those that asked what happened after. Two extra chapters later and I still haven't even gotten to what happened after Albus was bound. Groan. Also, if I've messed any canon up in here, I apologize. Finding consistent canon is harder than Chinese Algebra. Many thanks to those that have favorited my story or reviewed the previous chapters. Reviews are love people! Let me know what you think.

AZ


	6. Man, Those Redheads

A/N: Once again, this story is getting away from me. Longest chapter of the story so far, but it was necessary. Be advised, this is part one of a two-part upload. I've been unable to get online and get this one uploaded, so you get a twofer! Enjoy!

Also, there are some scenes in this chapter than might be a little graphic. The rating is M for a reason.

* * *

"Merlin's bloody balls, Ron, you missed the hoops by a troll leg! It's no wonder you're a Keeper and not a Chaser." Ginny Weasley flew in circles around her brother on one of the ancient Cleansweep brooms her family kept for pick-up Quidditch games. She reached out as she made a pass and smacked him upside the head. "That's for missing a wide open goal."

"Bloody hell, Gin," Ron exclaimed, shaking loose the cobwebs. He groaned as she flew over to her current boyfriend, Dean Thomas, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Oi," he yelled at her. "Try and keep the snogging to a minimum while we're playing, can ya? And maybe go pick up the quaffle."

"Useless moron," Ginny muttered in her brother's direction as she zoomed away and set her broom down on the edge of the forest that served as a backstop for their family Quidditch matches. Officially, Dean had made the journey from his home to see his roommate and prepare for Quidditch tryouts once the school year started back up. Unofficially, he was there to spend some time with her, his girlfriend. Unfortunately for them both, her brother the berk was making things difficult. The constant moaning whenever they so much as got within a few feet of each other and the off target throws were beginning to get on her nerves. This was the third one she had had to fetch and she was sure that nobody, even her idiot brother, was that bad at playing Chaser.

"What the bloody hell is taking so long," the aforementioned idiot yelled, infuriating her more. Why didn't he come in here and look if he thought he could do better? He did have a point, however. Where was that damn thing? Ginny looked back at the tree line, which was a good thirty feet away. The quaffle had never rolled this far into the woods before. She turned back to look into the expanse of forest before giving the ball up as a bad job. Good thing they had extras back in-

"Looking for something, Ginerva," a voice asked from behind, startling her into a scream. Or, what she had hoped was a scream. Not a single noise was coming from her open mouth and, hard as she tried, there was nothing she could do to change the situation. She was magically silenced. "_Incarcerous_," the voice whispered and she was quickly bound in magically conjured ropes before falling to the ground. "A few moments longer and you'll be back to the game with your brother and Thomas." She shivered as the voice came next from right beside her ear. There was something familiar about the voice, though. Something she should be able to place.

"There is something I need from you first, Ginerva. You see, you owe me a debt, and I am here to collect."

Ginny finally recognized what she knew about the voice as a foot wedged underneath her stomach rolled her over onto her back. The face that went with, though...

**That** thoroughly frightened her.

* * *

"This place is a dump," Hermione said succinctly, staring at the small shack skeptically. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

"Positive." The Gaunt shack, or what remained of it, certainly didn't look like much, but what Tom left in his mind told Harry that he would find one of the Horcruxes he was searching for here. Harry reached out with his magic, searching for the wards Tom's memories told him were there. Sure enough, he found them, intricately woven through, around, and between each other. A deep green Muggle repelling ward, a bright purple magical suppression ward, and...

"We should leave, Harry," his love stated nervously. "Something feels wrong here."

And that would be the toxic-looking orange compulsion ward, Harry finished. "It's fine, love. You're just feeling the wards Tom left to protect the Horcrux. Take my hand," he said, holding out the appendage, "and you'll be able to feel them."

Hermione took the offered hand and Harry could feel her grip tighten when she could finally 'see' the wards. "I sense them now. They're beautiful, all interconnected like that. If Voldemort weren't such a murdering bastard, I would congratulate him on his masterful use of interdependent ward building. As it is..." she trailed off, removing her wand from her large sleeve.

She ran her wand along the edge of the ward line, and muttered what Harry guessed were Arithmantic equations until she came to an unremarkable (at least to Harry) area of the wards. "Here," she stated, aiming her wand at a point fifteen feet or so in the air. "This is where the keystone for the wards is. If I take this equation and change it..." Here her voice faded once again as she placed her wand to the ground and began drawing a group of complex runes in the patchy dirt. When she had finished inscribing the last one, the arrangement of five ancient letters and numbers began glowing and the formerly colorful wards collapsed in on themselves.

That deserved a kiss, Harry decided. He rewarded Hermione with a particularly lusty snog, which she promptly began to respond to, both audibly as well as physically. Harry decided that it was neither the time nor the place for _that_ and reluctantly broke the kiss. "We've work to do, love," he reminded her with a pat to the bottom. Taking her hand, he led the way through the long-unkempt yard and up to the front door of the decrepit hut. A quick _Reducto_ blew the door into splinters.

"It smells terrible." Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust and warily eyed the many inches of accumulated dust. "How long has it been since someone was here?"

"Fifty years, but it's probably been twice that since it was cleaned. Place was a dump when Tom was last here." Harry pointed with his wand towards a room off to the side, but stopped Hermione before they could enter. "Be careful what you touch when we get in here. The Horcrux has a powerful Withering Curse placed on it, and the golden box containing it has an equally vicious curse providing protection."

"Of course, beloved," Hermione said, nodding. "Will you need my assistance with any of the curse-breaking?"

"The box, for sure. I have an idea for dealing with the ring." He pushed open the door and, even without accessing Tom's memories, could immediately tell where he had hidden the box containing the piece of his soul. The floorboards were loose near the fireplace and Harry could see they had been haphazardly removed and quickly replaced. He scoffed at Tom's inattention to detail. All of his effort went into building the wards that protected this place. Once through those, finding the Horcrux was easy. Of course, destroying it would be another matter. He levitated the loose boards out of the way and the the two stared at the large, golden box under the floor.

Waving her wand slowly around the box, Hermione let out a slow whistle. "Tom wasn't playing around with this box, Harry. An anti-summoning charm, a **powerful** _Flagrante_ curse, an Insanity curse, and one I'm unfamiliar with. I think Tom created that one specifically for the protection of this Horcrux." She lowered her wand and turned to face her lover. "Harry, breaking these curses will take a few hours. Unless..." she trailed off, staring at the box in thought. Harry let her be for a few moments knowing the smartest witch of the age could work around it. She didn't let him down.

"Got it." A swish and a flick of her wand and the beautiful, but deadly, golden box became a small mouse. Harry almost smiled at what was quickly becoming his love's go-to spell before the mouse began squealing loudly, in what seemed like agony. "Don't ever cast the _Flagrante_ curse on something biological," Hermione offered in response to Harry's questioning look. A quick wave of her wand and her other favorite spell, the Bluebell flames, immolated the poor rodent. She ended the conjuration with an unspoken _Finite_.

Harry sifted through the ashy remnants of the box, smiling when he finally found what he was looking for. The ring, or at least the golden band, was gone, melted off in the heat of Hermione's magical flames. The only thing left was the black jewel in the center, or what Harry now knew was the Resurrection Stone. Harry was right to recognize the symbol on the cover of the book he'd filched from the study area in Hogwarts. After reading through it, he had finally realized where he had seen that triangular design before: Tom's memories of his maternal family and their precious family inheritance. From them, Harry knew that the Gaunts were uneducated fools who cared for nothing but their ancestry. Not being a big reader of fairy tales, Tom probably followed them in their ignorance and believed that the ring was simply a pure-blood heirloom. Of course, without the other two Hallows, the Stone would not be nearly as useful, so the search was on for the Elder Wand and the Cloak of Invisibility. First things first, however.

Silently, Harry used the Levitation Charm to lift the Stone from the floorboards. When he waved his wand and cast a diagnostic spell over the item, he found that the Withering Curse must have been tied to the gold band of the ring because it was now gone. Determining the Stone to be safe (aside from the shard of Voldemort's soul ensconced inside), he allowed it to fall into his hand and inspected it a little more closely.

"It's amazing that Tom never knew about this," he said to Hermione, examining the tiny little gift from Death, if the stories were to be believed. "If he ever knew the power he had on his finger, there's no limit to the Hell he could have wrought upon the world." He shook his head, playing with the small magical artifact in his hand. "We're lucky that he was as ignorant of magical history as we were." Harry rolled the Stone around in his palm for a moment before closing his fist around it. "I suppose I should remove the soul piece."

"Harry," a feminine voice asked from behind him before he could follow through on his intentions. Harry recognized that voice. He'd heard it during a duel in a graveyard close to here over a year ago. He heard it almost every night in his dreams or, more appropriately, his nightmares.

"Hello, Mum."

Lily Potter's most famous features, her green eyes and dark red hair, were muted by the gray scale she appeared in, but Harry would know his mother anywhere. The scowl decorating her features, however, was new. Every photo, every memory, he had of his mother was of her happy and smiling. This Lily Potter seemed... _murderous_.

"You've disappointed me, Harry," the shade of his mother spat, glare on her face. "Your father and I sacrificed ourselves so that you'd have a chance to defeat Voldemort and what have you done with it? Making a deal with the most hated and vicious dark wizard in fifty years is not why we gave our lives."

"Mom, I-" Harry tried to reason but the shade of his mother wouldn't allow it.

"You're a disappointment," Lily continued, interrupting her son. "The best thing we could have done would have been to give you up to the Dark Lord. At least then we would still be alive to fight."

Harry was unable to speak. The woman who had birthed him, mothered him for a year and then gave her life so that he could live now believed that he was a lost cause. Everyday he woke with the thought that he would give everything he had to go back and change things so that he'd have just one more moment with her. And now she was saying that the world would be better off if he had died that night instead of her and his father. "No," he breathed out, on the verge of tears. "Don't say that, Mum. Please... I'm trying..."

"Give up," the shade continued. "You can't beat him. You can't save anyone. For Merlin's sake, you couldn't even save Sirius. You're a failure, Harry, and the best thing you could do is run away and never come back."

Head bowed, tears running down his face, Harry was about to agree when a hand crept into his. "It's not true," Hermione whispered in his ear before kissing him softly on the cheek. "It's not true," she said again, more forcefully this time, and in the direction of the shade of Lily Potter.

"Oh? And what would you know, Mudblood," the shade sneered. "Didn't he lead you directly into danger not so long ago?"

"I _know_ plenty," Hermione replied snidely. "For instance, I know Lily Potter, born Lily Evans, was a Muggle-born and would never refer to anyone as a Mudblood. And I know it was _my_ choice to follow Harry into the the Department of Mysteries. I'd follow him anywhere," she finished quietly. She turned to the boy next to her. "It's the Horcrux. It's influencing the shade of your mother."

"Listen to _me_, Harry. I'm your _mother_. What does this little tramp of a witch know?"

Harry began to see what Hermione had clued him in to. "Hermione knows me, Mum, better than anyone. She really does know plenty, just like she said. And she was right when she said Lily Potter would never speak to anyone, especially another Muggle-born witch, like that." He unclenched the hand holding the Stone and found that he had been gripping it hard enough to cut his skin and draw blood.

"You're not my mother. Lily would be proud of me. I will see her one day, along with my father, and then I will answer for what I have done and will do in the future." With a nod to Hermione, he released her hand and focused on the Stone and the soul shard contained within. "You almost had me believing you," Harry admitted before removing the glowing red shard from the black rock and placing it in the small mouse levitating in front of him. The shade, the source of its enmity removed, began to melt away. Before it could completely dissolve, however, Harry could have sworn he saw a smile grace his mother's countenance.

"I promise, Mum, I _will_ make you proud."

* * *

Being the Dark Lord's newest errand boy really buggered the dragon, Draco decided as he strode through Knockturn Alley. The dingy and dank shopping area for those with an affinity towards the dark arts was nearly deserted, except for a few solitary souls sneaking through the shadows. He blamed the Ministry. After papering more than half of Diagon Alley with notices and warnings to beware of dark wizards, the Auror department had decided it was their business to hassle anyone in the area that looked even remotely like a member of the Dark Lord's followers. The meddling fools would get theirs when the Dark Lord came into power, of that he was sure.

Less certain was his place in his Master's plans. He had only had the Dark Mark for less than two weeks and already he was tired of running here and there and retrieving supplies for the Dark Lord's servants. Yesterday he had made the trip to Slug & Jiggers at Diagon Alley for nothing more important that a bag of beetle eyes and some unicorn hair. Two days before that it was a barrel of dragon dung fertilizer. His mother was _still_ trying to remove the stench from those robes, although he wasn't holding out any hope for them. They belonged in a Weasley's closet now, he thought with a snicker.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Dark Lord's newest pet ferret," a voice spoke from the shadows next to him. He frowned as Ginny Weasley emerged from the space in between buildings. "I knew he had a thing for rodents, but this is getting ridiculous."

"I was just thinking about your blood-traitor family, little Weasel, and how good you'd look in my cast off robes, specifically the ones that smell like dragon dung." He looked up and down the alley, noting with satisfaction that there seemed to be no more of the filthy gingers in sight. It seemed that the youngest Weasley was alone. Frustratingly, his comeback seemed not to faze her in the slightest.

"Been doing some of Voldemort's dirty work, have you," she asked nonchalantly, drawing his ire.

"Don't you dare speak the Dark Lord's name," Draco fumed. He pointed his wand at her chest. "I noticed none of your impoverished family is around right now. I could curse you so badly right now, not even your dumpy mother would recognize you when I was done." He was unprepared for her reaching up, swatting his wand away and slapping him upside the face. "How- how _dare_ you!? I'm a Malfoy and I'll not be-" He was interrupted as she once again reached out and slapped his cheek.

Draco was literally struck silent. No one dared to _ever_ touch the son of Lucius Malfoy. "Y-you are g-gonna be sorry for that, Weasley," he stuttered, rubbing his burning cheek.

"Am I now," she asked, casually inspecting her hand and fingernails. "I'm surprised my idiot brother has had this much trouble with you through your years at Hogwarts. Turns out that all you needed was a couple smacks to get you to behave. I wonder if your mother knew that you enjoyed your spankings," the redhead mused to herself.

Nostrils flaring, his face burning in rage, Draco grabbed the girl by her robes and dragged her into the dirty, dingy side street. "I've had enough of your lip, you little bitch," he fumed at her, pushing her face first into the side of a building. "I know what will knock you down a peg or two." He reached underneath her skirt and ripped her knickers off. "Try not to like this too much, Weasley." Loosening his pants, he pressed the writhing girl back up against the wall. Slipping inside her already wet crevice, he struggled not to let her know how good she felt. "Bloody hell," he moaned, failing.

"Find something you like," his supposed victim asked, wriggling her bum and causing him to thrust faster in pleasure. "Harder, Malfoy. Is this your first time between a woman's legs?"

"Shut the fuck up," he muttered, trying to sound like he was in control. He **was** in control, he told himself, he just had to get this little slattern to realize it. "I can tell you've done this before, though. Just how many of your brother's friends _have_ you serviced, Weasley? I'm sure Thomas wasn't the first. How many rungs are there on the ladder before Potter, or will he not have you after you've whored yourself out?"

"Oh, you're the first, although I'd hardly call you a friend of Harry's. As far as my virginity goes, I lost _that_ the first time I flew on a broom, Malfoy." Ginny moaned again. "Are you going to screw me or make talk? Merlin, I've fucked _myself_ harder than you've managed so far."

That was enough for Draco. He grabbed Ginny by the throat, facing her back towards him, and re-entered her in a quick thrust. "I'll give you a hard fucking," he promised, jackhammering into her for a few moments before finishing with a low growl. After a half second of collecting his wits, he tried to withdraw from the girl's sopping slit, only to find that he was unable to complete the task. His cock appeared to be stuck in her hot hole and, worse, it seemed to be stiffening again. "What the bloody hell," he muttered in confusion. He looked back up at a smiling Ginny Weasley. "What have you done?" Draco reached back to take a swing at the girl, but found himself unable to follow through.

"I haven't had mine yet," Ginny offered in explanation as she waved her wand, snapping his arms down to his sides. "More, Malfoy. Do it harder this time and I won't make you my little sissy bitch."

Draco's eyes widened as, with another wave of her wand, his hands gripped her shapely ass and his hips began to piston back into her of their own accord. "What have you done to me, Weasley? Let me go!" Once again, he tried to pull out of her and got no response from his body.

"Not a chance, Malfoy. Your cock feels great." Ginny, eyes closed in ecstasy, threw her head back and moaned. "Harder, harder," she muttered repetitively, pulling on her nipples and strumming her clitoris. After a few minutes of pumping, Draco wasn't sure how much longer his body could last. Although he was no virgin (Thank you, Pansy), his thighs and back were not used to the strength required to support a woman hanging off his hips while pounding into her. Thankfully, he could tell that Ginny was about to climax. The contractions in her vagina were beginning to come faster now and her moans were increasing in volume and frequency. "Fuuuuuuuckkkkkk," she finally moaned, announcing her orgasm's arrival. The constant pressure and heat on his dick was enough to make him ejaculate inside her once again.

"_Much_ better," Ginny sighed, dismounting and pushing him away. "Did you enjoy that, Draco? Not what you expected, I imagine." She reached out and slowly began stroking his dick which, to his horror, began to harden once again. "This is mine now, Malfoy. I've used some very ancient magic to bind you to me. With a thought, I can cause you pain that makes even the strongest Cruciatus feel like a tickle." As she tightened her grip, the most painful burning sensation he had ever felt flowed through his privates. He screamed in agony and he pictured his bits boiling in acid. Time stretched and Draco was sure the suffering would never end.

Then, after what seemed like hours, the pain subsided and he could breathe once more. He looked down and was surprised to see his dick, hard as a diamond, but basically unmarred. She was right, that made even the Dark Lord's torture curse feel like the barest of touches. "Or," she continued, "I can give you the most mind-blanking pleasure you've never imagined." She softly stroked the quivering member and his legs nearly gave out. His mind blank, he thrust his hips and came for the third time in minutes.

"You like? Good," Ginny answered, not waiting for a reply. It wasn't as if he could give one anyway. Between the agony and the pleasure, words were beyond him right now. "Your cock belongs to me now, Malfoy, which means that _you_ belong to me. Do you understand?" He nodded. "Good. My Master has a job for you, Draco. If you successfully complete this task, you'll be rewarded handsomely. You remember what a reward is don't you?" Ginny winked at him and a brief flash of knee-buckling pleasure passed through him, causing him to nod eagerly. "Good, good. Now," she said, grabbing him by the hair and pushing him to his knees, "clean me up. I can't be going back home smelling like sex.

"Or you."

* * *

"Boy!"

"BOY," Vernon Dursley bellowed from the bottom of the stairway in his house on Privet Drive. Normally the rotund, red-faced man wouldn't bother with asking after his freakish nephew. However, the little bastard couldn't be bothered to make an appearance in the last few days and it was only to keep the smell of a dead body out of the house that he was inquiring now. If Vernon would have thought about it for more than a moment, he probably could have come to the realization that the boy wasn't there. After all, there hadn't been a single noise from the upstairs bedroom that he usually occupied and the lavatory remained unused in the early morning hours that Harry was known to frequent it. Receiving no reply from upstairs, he turned instead to the kitchen. "PETUNIA," he hollered.

"Yes, dear?" His wife's voice preceded her exit from the kitchen by a few seconds. "What is it," she asked before joining her husband at the base of the stairs in the sitting room.

"Where is that damn boy? Did he say anything to you about going off with any of those freakish friends of his?"

"I haven't seen him for a few days," she responded, unconcerned with her only nephew's whereabouts. "You should ask Diddy-kins where he is. Maybe he's seen him?" With that, she disappeared back into her kitchen, distractedly humming a tune.

"DUDLEY," Vernon thundered, rattling the windowpanes in the house.

"What," a voice replied after a moment.

"WHERE'S THE BOY," a rosy-cheeked Vernon screamed back at the stairs. All of the shouting he was doing was threatening a coronary.

"Don't know," came the reply, followed by the slamming of a door that signaled the end of the conversation.

Vernon nearly roared in frustration. "WHERE IS THAT BLASTED BOY?"

"Right here, Uncle."

The surprise of his nephew's voice coming from behind him literally knocked him off his feet and he fell to the floor, where he lay for a few moments as he struggled to regain his breath. "Where the bloody hell have you been, boy," he asked once he regained his base.

"Do you really care," the boy asked, eyebrow raised.

He had a point, but Vernon wasn't about to let him know that he was right. "This isn't some inn where you can come and go as you please, boy. If you're going to leave, just go and don't come back." Just as he was gearing up to jump headfirst into a rant, he was interrupted by the arrival of a young lady from the kitchen. She was fetching and, if it wasn't for her freakishness (for Vernon had noticed the stick she carried in her hand), he may have admitted she was very attractive. "And who might this be, boy? Another one of your freak friends?"

Both the boy and the new arrival ignored the insulting question, instead speaking to each other. "The concealment ward is up, which will obscure any magic done here, and I've memory charmed the Order member standing watch across the street."

"WHAT IS THIS," Vernon boomed. "THERE WILL BE NO MENTION OF ANY FUNNY BUSINESS-" Any further reprimanding was cut off by the boy waving his twig in his direction. He reached his hands up to this throat, trying without success to figure out what was happening to his ability to speak, or make any noise at all.

"Better," the boy continued, rubbing his ears. "Merlin, his voice is loud." Vernon turned a strange purple color at this disgraceful language and started to rage at the boy for his tone before realizing that he still couldn't speak. "Who was it out there on watch?"

"Your neighbor, Arabella Figg," the young woman replied, at which point Vernon nearly had a fatal heart attack. It was one thing for the boy to go around performing that foolishness on his own kind, but for these two freaks to go after a neighbor of theirs, even one as odd as old Missus Figg, was beyond reasonable. He stomped his large foot repeatedly to get the boy's attention. "Oh, calm yourself," the girl replied, noticing his apparent discomfort. "She's one of our kind anyway."

Living so close to one of those freaks for so long and not knowing was too much to take and Vernon promptly fainted.

_**Later**_

A sharp slap to his cheek woke Vernon from his unplanned nap. "Wake up, Uncle," the boy's voice came from in front of him. As he opened his eyes, he gradually became aware of the fact that he was no longer standing on the landing of the stairs and, instead, was now seated on his couch next to his son and wife. He struggled to lever his considerable girth from the couch before realizing that he was somehow unable to move.

"WHAT THE-" was all he got out this time before his voice left him again.

"I think we've heard enough from Uncle, don't you love," the boy asked, although who he was talking to was not readily apparent to Vernon.

The conundrum was solved when the _other_ freak replied. "It seems like he only has one volume level: Earsplitting." Vernon would have laughed at the boy calling that attractive girl in the _extremely_ short skirt his love if it weren't for his missing voice. Dudley was not under the same compulsion.

"Bollocks," he said, loudly laughing. "There's no way that you and this slut are together. How much are-" His son quickly joined him in silence.

"Well, that's two down. Care to make it three for three, Auntie?" Petunia quickly shook her head. "Didn't think so. You always were to smartest of the bunch, although that's not saying much, now is it?" He turned back to the girl with him. "Did you find out what I have to do," he asked her.

She nodded "I can't dismantle the wards personally, but it was surprisingly easy once I figured out who could. All you have to do is consider this place no longer your home."

The boy let out a loud, quick laugh before controlling himself. "Is that all? I thought I'd done that the day I stepped foot in Hogwarts? No matter."

"We should wait until we're done here," the girl said, stopping him with a hand to the arm and a sideways glance at them. "You know he'll be here as soon as the wards come down."

The boy took her in his arms and kissed her forehead, thoroughly disgusting Vernon. Displays like that in front of other people. Scandalous. "Right as always, love," the boy said, after he finished disregarding common courtesy. He turned back towards Petunia, glaring at her. "All of my life, you've treated me like something an unwelcome house guest tracked in on the bottom of their shoe one evening. You couldn't be bothered to even give me a proper place to sleep until you thought that you might be under surveillance." He shook his head. "I've always wondered what my mother would think of this, being your sister and all, and now I have the power to find out." He held out his hand, upon which Vernon could see rested a tiny and unremarkable black stone. "I can bring her and my father back from the dead."

Vernon intended on ranting and raving about foolishness and freakishness but the only noise he heard was a soft gasp from his wife. "Please... don't," she softly cried.

"I'm afraid it's too late for you," the freak nearly sitting in the boy's lap replied. "We have need of information and Harry's parents are the only ones that can provide it. I imagine they'll have a few words to say to you regarding the treatment of their son in the next few days.

"FEW DAYS," Petunia shrieked, sobbing loudly before she was quieted as well.

"And that's three," the boy said with finality. "I suppose we should get the family reunion started," he sighed, rolling the small stone around in his palm.

"_Tuney, I swear I'm going to make you pay for the way you've treated my son!"_

* * *

A/N:I know I'm fooling w/ canon here a little, people but I don't particularly care. JKR was never really specific with things like that so I kinda did my own thing. Also, I'm aware that my Brit speak, or lack thereof, is pretty terrible. If anyone has any ideas, let me know. Which brings me to my anonymous reviewer, who tole me that I should "get a beta." I think my grammar and spelling is pretty good, but if you have problems with that, I'm a PM away. Next chapter is also new!

AZ


	7. Hart & Cold

A/N: Another long episode here. BE ADVISED, THIS IS PART TWO OF A TWO-PART UPLOAD! GO BACK AND READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER FIRST! Thank you, that is all.

My theory on Harry and Hermione: Relationships between best friends are what love songs are made of. Bickering couples are daytime talk show fodder.

* * *

"Are you sure it's here," Hermione asked as she ascended the steps of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. "You said yourself that Tom only told Bellatrix to hide it somewhere safe."

Harry took her hand and squeezed it soothingly. "Too true, love. However, he told her to keep it somewhere safe, where none would be able to access it. Can you think of any place safer than Gringotts?" Hermione shook her head. "Neither can I." He shook his head as they made their way through the large, bronze main doors and into the small entrance hall, where another pair of silver doors were engraved with a warning:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there. _

"It always seemed so ridiculous to think that anyone would try and rob this place," Harry said soberly. "Now we're trying to do exactly that." He shook his head and led the way through the silver doors and into the bank itself. "It never gets old, does it," he asked, noticing the look of wonder on Hermione's face. Harry laughed as she shook her head slowly. "Come on, we have business to attend to." He and Hermione walked to the head of one of the empty lines, where a white-haired goblin was sitting behind the cage, counting golden Galleons.

"My name is Harry Potter-" he began, but the seemingly ancient goblin quickly interrupted him.

"I know who you are, human. We have been waiting on your arrival since the notification for the will reading was sent to your magical guardian. If you would follow me," he said, hopping off the stool and walking along the counter.

"Will reading," Harry asked the witch next to him.

"Sirius."

Harry's stomach dropped like a stone and a grimace marred his complexion. He'd managed to stuff the loss of his godfather in the back of his mind since his joining with Tom's soul piece, but here it was again, slapping him in the face. This wasn't why he had come here and he certainly wasn't prepared to deal with Sirius' death right now. Unfortunately, the goblins were. "Are you coming," the ugly little thing asked, noticing the two humans hadn't moved from their place in line.

Thankfully, Hermione came to his rescue. "Yes, we're coming. Use your barriers and shut it out for now," she advised Harry. "We can deal with it after we're done here." At his nod, she squeezed his hand in support and followed the diminutive being to the end of the long counter.

"Wait here." He pointed with a long, crooked finger at a bench near a hallway that led back to the inner workings of the bank. "Your account manager will be along shortly."

"Let's practice working on our Occlumency barriers," Hermione offered, curling her legs around herself. "It will help us focus for this meeting."

Harry nodded, retaking her hand. He crossed his legs underneath him as his lover had and blanked his mind.

_**Later**_

"Mr. Potter!"

The goblin calling his name stirred Harry from his calming meditation session. He roused himself and took stock of his senses. Hermione was correct, the meditation had succeeded in helping him focus his thoughts. He would thank her properly later. Speaking of...

"Time to go, love," he whispered in Hermione's ear. She came to as quickly as he had and stood with him after uncurling her legs from underneath her. "We're ready," he said to the goblin once they had collected themselves and they followed the grotesque fellow through the hall they had been waiting at the entrance of. He led them past a few doors that looked alike until reaching one no different than the others. The goblin motioned them in before following and shutting the door behind them. Harry and Hermione took seats facing the miniature one the goblin placed himself in.

After he had spent a minute innocuously arranging the papers in front of him, the goblin lifted his head and studied Harry intently. "You don't recognize me, do you Mr. Potter?"

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "Should I?" He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I've only been here once before and I only met one goblin. Would you be Griphook?"

The goblin nodded, showing a sharp, toothy grin. "Indeed. You may not be aware of this, but once a goblin is assigned an account to manage, it is his responsibility for life. I was your parents' account manager and your father's parents before that. When you have children," he offered, briefly glancing at a blushing Hermione, "provided I am still alive, I will oversee the creation and administration of their accounts. At any time, should you have a question regarding your accounts, you may contact me directly by owl post or in person here at Gringotts. I say this to you because it seems you have reached the age of majority, although it is well over a year ahead of schedule." He held up a hand to forestall Harry's objection. "There is no need to explain anything, Mr. Potter. We here at Gringotts respect our client's right to privacy. With these new circumstances, there are a few additional issues that must be dealt with." He slid a scroll across the table for Harry to examine. "This parchment outlines the transfer for control of the Potter family vaults to you. They were held in trusteeship for you by Gringotts until you attained your age of majority." After reading through the concise form, he picked up the quill that appeared on his right and scribbled his name. He nearly cursed at the pain emanating from his non-writing hand.

"A blood quill," he yelled, dropping the item in shock. He glared up at the staring goblin. "You are unaware of my history with these, so I'll allow your ignorance this time."

"I apologize, Mr. Potter." Griphook bowed his head slightly. "I assumed you were aware of the need for blood in the sealing of magical contracts. All of the forms today will need to be signed with the quill. This next item," he continued, passing another roll of parchment along the table, "transfers the contents of your Trust Vault from its current location into the Potter family vault."

Harry studied the new contract, gritting his teeth slightly and signing it when he had read it through. "How many more," he asked, rubbing the sore hand, which Hermione thankfully took over.

The goblin withdrew a larger roll of parchment from the box next to him. "This is the last, Mr. Potter. The will of Sirius Black." He slowly unrolled the long scroll and began to read. "I, Sirius Black III, being of sound mind and body (well that sound mind part is debatable) do hereby bequeath all of my possessions to my godson, Harry James Potter. These possessions include the residence at 12 Grimmauld Place and everything contained within, including Witherwings the hippogriff and the Black family house elf, Kreacher. He's a bastard, as you know Harry, but sending him away is dangerous to others. I also leave you the contents of the Black family vault, number 711. I hope it brings you some happiness in these dark times. Good luck, Pup." Griphook looked up. "Thus ends the will of Sirius Black." He passed the will across to Harry and looked at him expectantly.

"Is that all," Harry asked. That was an awful lot of parchment for just that tiny little will. Griphook gave a toothy grin and Harry mentally shrugged. Probably some stupid inheritance fine print. He lifted the quill to the parchment but Hermione's hand on his stopped him before he could sign.

"The goblin is hiding something. I think he's planning on stealing money from you," she said softly, eyes closed as she combed through the goblin's memories.

Harry turned to the gaping goblin. "Trying to rob me, are you?"

"Mr. Potter, I-" Harry precluded his protests with a raised hand, mirroring Griphook's own action earlier.

"Before you anger me greatly by calling my mate a liar, you might want to consider your response, Griphook. If you plan on continuing to serve the Potter family, current and future, it would behoove you to know that I value honesty above all."

The goblin appeared to consider his reply for a moment. "Mr. Potter, my heartfelt apologies to you and your mate if I offended you in any way. The item the young lady refers to is a commission many wizards and witches decide to reward their account manager with when handling large transactions such as this." Hermione loudly cleared her throat, causing the goblin to squeak. "Fine, it's not a commission," Griphook grumbled.

"Much better," Harry replied. He handed the parchment back across the table. "Fix it." Once Griphook had amended the document and Hermione had given the okay to sign, he scratched his name across the bottom in his blood. "Now, as for your payment. _Crucio!_" Harry only allowed the curse to linger for a moment before the releasing the goblin. "Steal from me again, Griphook, and you'll know true pain." He held out his hand. "My new vault keys. Now."

Later, when they had left the conference room and Griphook behind, and were waiting for a cart down to the vaults below, Harry gave Hermione the passionate kiss he had promised himself earlier he would gift her. "You've been a fantastic help today, love," he said after breaking the snog. "Your suggestion to meditate probably saved Griphook's life, even if he doesn't know it. Masterful use of Legilimency to catch his attempt at thievery, too."

Hermione simply blushed and smiled back at him.

"Key, please," the goblin sitting at the entrance to the vault carts ground out. Harry offered him the key to the Black vault, which he examined for a moment before returning. "Follow me," he said, leading the way into the cavern entrance.

As the cart flew down the rails towards the higher numbered and therefore longer tenured and more secure vaults, he thought about how truly lucky he was to have the smartest witch the wizarding world had seen since her ancestor, Rowena Ravenclaw. Destroying the Horcruxes was no cakewalk, but it was child's play compared to dealing with Voldemort. Her knowledge of spells, curses, and counter-curses was unrivaled. He was contemplating assigning her something to truly test her admittedly vast amount of knowledge, both magical and mundane. The cart came to a sudden stop, derailing his train of thought.

"Black vault," the goblin called out, disembarking. Harry followed, turning back when Hermione didn't.

"We have things to do," she tried to remind him.

"Just a peek," Harry promised. He shrugged at Hermione's glare. "You never know, we might find something we could use." She rolled her eyes at his weak excuse to see exactly what was in one of his new vaults. He could tell, however, that she was just as anxious to see what it contained, even if she did a better job of hiding it. After completing their inspection, they closed the vault behind them and approached the cart.

"Climb aboard and we'll begin the trip back to the top," the bored goblin intoned.

Harry and Hermione shared a look.

"_Imperio_."

_**Divider Line Here**_

In his new property at 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry couldn't help but go back to that night in the Department of Mysteries. Tainted though his mother's shade was, it was correct when it said that Sirius' death was his fault. If he had done any number of things differently, his godfather might still be alive. Merlin, the two-way mirror Sirius had given him had been sitting in his trunk, just waiting to be used! Even asking Kreacher a more specific question could have saved so much heartbreak.

The weight of a loss that could have been prevented sat heavily on his chest, nearly suffocating him. Curled up on a couch in the sitting room, his head in Hermione's lap, a single tear tracked its way down his cheek. Another side effect of joining with the shard, he thought morosely. He couldn't even shed a few tears for the man he had loved as a father. Harry angrily wiped the dampness from his cheek.

"I know you're hurting right now," Hermione offered, setting down the book she was reading and stroking his untameable black hair, "and that you want to think this is all your fault, but it's not." She turned his head to stare into her eyes. "If Kreacher had not given such an intentionally vague response as to where Sirius was, if the headmaster had confided in you as to what resided in the Department of Mysteries, even if Professor Snape had taken your Occlumency training seriously. Any of these things would have resulted in a different fate for Sirius and they all fall on the shoulders of others." Hermione sighed.

"You may not want to hear this, but some of the fault lies with Sirius himself."

She held up a finger to forestall his interruption as he tensed up. "Let me explain, please. Had Sirius not toyed around with Bellatrix and taken her down quickly, he may have survived the duel. My point is that, if you look hard enough, you can find fault with anyone for Sirius' death. You can't keep blaming yourself." Hermione leaned down to kiss him softly. "You have to quit this. We have plans we must complete."

Harry gave a small smirk. "You're right of course, love."

"You should be used to that by now, I would think."

"That I should," he said, finally laughing. "What did I do to deserve you in my life?" He smiled and stroked her cheek softly.

"I ask myself the same thing," she said good-naturedly, cupping his hand and softly kissing the palm. "Should we have our guests fetched?"

Harry sat up, straightening his outfit. "I suppose we should. DOBBY," he yelled to nowhere in particular.

A loud pop signaled the house-elf's arrival. "How can Dobby be assisting Harry Potter, sir," the large-eyed, bat-eared elf asked.

"Hello, Dobby. Have you been keeping an eye on my new disciples, like I asked?"

The elf bobbed his head quickly. "Yes, Master Harry Potter, sir! They's be laying together right now."

Harry shared a look with Hermione, who raised her eyebrow. "Why don't you go bring them here?"

The elf nearly shook with pleasure at obeying Harry's orders. "Right away, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby be's going to get them right now!" And with that, Dobby popped off.

"I still can't believe you called Dobby to your service," Hermione said, disapprovingly. "I know that he wanted to and, thanks my ancestor, I now understand the bonds house-elves have with their masters a little better. It just seems to go against everything I believe. Or believed."

"I know you don't like it, love, but I needed him. Kreacher was no longer trustworthy and had to be disposed of. I needed a house-elf and the only way to secure Dobby's services correctly was to bind him to my household. At least we don't have to listen to Mrs. Black anymore," he offered, trying for levity.

Hermione didn't seem to be buying it. "Just because Dobby got that horrible portrait off the wall-" A loud pop and the arrival of three bodies saved Harry from any further rebuttal. He quickly sat up from Hermione's lap. Both schooled their features, the lightness and love from earlier disappearing, to be replaced by unfeeling stares at the two naked humans and one tiny elf.

"Dobby be's presenting Miss Wheezy and the _former_ master." Dobby bowed low and, at a nod from Harry, disappeared with a pop.

"Hello, Ginerva. Hello, Malfoy," Harry began congenially. "I trust we didn't interrupt anything important?"

"You," Draco seethed. "I should kill you for what you did to my father, Potter. You ruined-"

"SHUT UP, MALFOY," Harry roared. Draco shut up. "Your father deserved what he got. He's lucky he's _only_ in Azkaban. But that's not why you're here. I have big plans for you, Draco. Your services are required in destroying Voldemort."

The naked boy laughed out loud for a moment. "You must be kidding me. You, Potter? You don't stand a snowball's chance in _hell_ against the Dark Lord." He laughed again before turning to the nude girl next to him. "_This_ is your master, Weaselette? The one who bound you to his will? Pathetic," he drawled.

Draco missed the redhead narrowing her eyes in anger. The blinding pain he was now familiar with sped through his privates and he writhed on the ground in agony for a moment before stopping.

"You'll not speak to our master that way," she whispered in his ear.

Harry nodded his head at the smiling girl. "Thank you, Ginerva. As I was saying, Draco, I have use for you in my plans to eliminate your former master. You belong to Ginerva and she belongs to me; therefore, **you** belong to me." He nodded to Hermione, who stood and walked over to Draco and kicked him over onto his back.

"He has the Mark," she verified, pinning his arm to the ground with her heel and inspecting the tattoo.

Draco groaned, still recovering from the painful abuse of his genitals, and looked up at the woman holding him to the ground. "See something you like, Granger?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not in a million years, Malfoy. Not _ever_."

"Shall I mark him now," she asked Harry. At his nod, she turned back to the cross blond boy. "My new version of the Protean Charm would humble even Voldemort, Draco. Let me show you." She aimed her wand at a point on his chest directly over his heart.

A deep, burning sensation began in that spot on Draco's skin, causing him to cry out once more. However, it lasted only a few moments. When he looked down he was surprised to see a blood-red, heart-shaped tattoo crowned by an impressive rack of antlers on his chest. "What have you done to me?" He reached up and rubbed the still tender area.

"The hoof-print and rack of The Red Hart," Hermione offered. "The sigul of my love. Stop your fussing," she spat, slapping his hand away from rubbing the magical tattoo, "only those similarly marked can see it." She pointed down to her waistline, where Draco could see her own Mark peeking out from under the top of her skirt.

"You'll get me killed! The Dark Lord will know I've taken anothers' Mark," Draco fretted.

"Calm yourself, Malfoy," Harry warned. "Voldemort won't have any reason to look at your bare chest and, even if he did, Hermione's Charms work is above reproach. The Dark Lord will remain unaware of your change in loyalty."

"_Loyalty_," Draco scoffed. "You know I'll never be loyal to you, Potter. What makes you think I won't inform the Dark Lord of what has happened here the second I leave?"

"You mean besides the fact that he would kill you for betraying him," he asked as Hermione rejoined him on the couch. He took her hand in his and kissed it softly. "This one here really is the smartest witch in ages. She managed to take Voldemort's Dark Mark and make it so much more. Not only does it allow me to recall you, it is also bundled with aspects of the Fidelius Charm, a Hardening Charm and a few minor Shielding Charms. A minor Memory Charm acts as a final fail safe, in case someone decides to tamper with your mind and withdraw protected memories and knowledge. Not bad for a Muggle-born, eh? You should thank her for protecting your worthless arse, Malfoy."

"Screw you, Potter," Malfoy replied, only to immediately contort in unspeakable pain on the ground once again.

"Did I forget to mention the Cruciatus derivative in there as well? Shame on me." Harry stood, pacing above the boy screaming and writhing in torment. "Can you feel the hooves pressing into your chest, Draco? Does it feel like being gored by a full rack of antlers?" Draco finally stopped wailing and curled up in the fetal position on the ground. "You _will_ serve me, Draco, and you will serve me well. The consequences of failure are grave. The rewards of success..." he trailed off, nodding at his redheaded disciple. She winked at a staring Draco, who lost himself in pleasurable sensations for a half-moment. "Well, I'm sure Ginerva has fully apprized you on those."

Draco sighed, knowing that he had no other choice. "What is it that you want from me," he asked resignedly.

Harry clapped his hands. "Much better attitude, Malfoy. For now I want you to do nothing other than the things you are being assigned. Don't draw attention to yourself for any reason. I have a feeling that your former master will have need of you soon. When he does, you will inform me through Ginerva. I'll send Hedwig to you with any instructions." At this a large, black owl flew down from her hidden perch above the bookshelves and landed on Harry's shoulder.

Draco looked quizzically at the owl staring at him. "I thought your bird was white."

"Hedwig was too noticeable in her white feathers," Harry said, stroking the preening bird. "I gave her a bit of a color change. I like it, don't you girl?" The aforementioned owl flapped her wings and nipped affectionately at her master's ear. "Dobby," Harry called out after Hedwig had left his shoulder and flown back to her perch.

"Master called for Dobby," the elf asked after popping into the room.

"Take Draco and Ginerva back to where you found them, please." The elf nodded and disappeared with the two teens, leaving Harry and Hermione alone once more. "Well, love, we now have our spy in place," Harry sighed, pulling Hermione into his lap as he sat down once more. "And there's only one Horcrux remaining. Luckily enough for us, somehow Kreacher managed to remove Slytherin's locket from the cave by the sea and bring it here. You don't want to know what we would have had to go through to get that thing from where Tom originally hid it." His eyes clouded over for a moment in sadness as he thought of the real reason for bringing Dobby into his house.

"What is it," Hermione asked, not missing the mournful gaze on her beloved's face.

Harry shook his head and gave her a soft kiss. "It's no longer important, love." He gave her another kiss, this one much more passionate. "What should we do with the rest of our day?"

Hermione moaned against his touch. "Oh, I can think of a few things."

_**The Burrow**_

In his fifth floor bedroom, Ronald Weasley reclined on his bed and thought. Many that knew him would be tempted to make a joke at the idea that Ron may have something on his mind requiring serious contemplation, but he was in no mood to be lighthearted. The headmaster of Hogwarts and the leader of the resistance group known as the Order of the Phoenix, Albus Dumbledore, was in a coma, his magic bound. Most everyone expected his death before the school year began. His two best friends, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, were missing. Nobody had seen either in nearly a week and, even more disturbingly, it was becoming harder to find any trace that they had ever existed in the first place.

Hermione's parents were under the assumption that their names were Wendell and Monica Wilkins and that they had never had any children. Harry's aunt, uncle, and cousin had been found yesterday, in St. Mungo's of all places. They had apparently been dropped off a few days prior, transfigured into gerbils, remembering nothing of their attackers or even of the fact that they were human. Both families had obviously been subjected to severe memory charms. A quiet, but furious, search was now being conducted, ostensibly for both Harry and Hermione, but mostly for The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Ron was losing hope, however. An emergency meeting of the Order was conducted in the Burrow the previous evening and most of the assembled were of the same mind, except for a few holdouts. Many of its members voiced the concern that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would make his move on the wizarding world once he learned of the loss of Dumbledore. Snape pledged to keep this knowledge from the Dark Lord. Very few knew what had become of the ancient wizard and it was vital that it stay that way as long as possible. He also told of his investigation into the minds of the Dursleys as well as the Grangers, which yielded only the knowledge that whoever had altered the minds of the Muggles was a very powerful witch or wizard and their memory charms were unbreakable. The newly christened Wilkinses were allowed to go back to their home, where they expressed their immediate intent to relocate to Australia.

The Dursleys were a trickier situation. Having no memory of being human, they were committed to St. Mungo's Long Term Care ward for treatment, although Ron was of the mind they should just transfigure them back into gerbils and let them live out their lives that way. The least those bastards deserved for the way they treated his best mate, he thought to himself.

Unable to lay in bed and do nothing any longer, he wrapped himself in his robe and made his way down to his favorite room, the kitchen. His mother had coped with the stress of the past few days by cooking and baking. The large pumpkin pie sitting in the middle of the table was testament to that. Unfortunately, it seemed that he would find no solace in eating tonight. His legendary appetite just wasn't there. Ron sat down, his head cradled in his hands. There must be something he could do. He was interrupted in his musings by the sound of the back door lightly creaking as it opened, followed by a few soft steps. He quickly withdrew his wand, pointing it at the shadows where the noise had come from. "Identify yourself!"

"Put your wand down, you stupid oaf," his sister, Ginny, called as she stepped from the shadows. Her own wand was raised and pointed in his direction. She scowled at him until he finally lowered his arm. After a moment, she lowered hers as well.

"Bloody hell, Gin! What are you doing out so late," he asked, looking his younger sister over. "You're not even supposed to be out at all!"

She shrugged off the arm he had comfortingly placed on her shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I can take care of myself." Ginny made for the hallway leading to her first floor bedroom, but a hand on her arm stopped her in her tracks. "Let me go, _Ronald_."

Now Ron _knew_ something was wrong. Ginny only called him Ronald when she was really peeved at him or when she was scared. He hadn't done anything lately that would cause her to be angry with him so he figured this had to do with Harry.

The boy she had a huge crush on.

Who had disappeared without a trace.

Ron could have smacked himself for his stupidity. _Of course_ Ginny was upset about Harry going missing. Well _this_ was something he could fix. "Look, Gin, we'll find Harry. I'm sure he's fine and we'll see him soon. Maybe we could put a Tracking Charm on a letter for him and send Pig out." Ron was unprepared for her reply, a dark and mirthless laugh.

"You really are some kind of stupid, aren't you? Do you think something as simple as a Tracking Charm on a piece of mail hasn't been thought of already? Sweet Morgana, Ron. It's unbelievable that Hermione had even the smallest of crushes on you."

"Hermione has a crush on me," Ron asked, truly interested in this bit of information.

"_Had_," she repeated. "Trust me when I say that Hermione, wherever she is, couldn't be bothered with a self-interested dullard like you." She turned back for her room, but Ron painfully gripped her upper arm and pulled her back towards him.

"Talk to me like that, will you," he huffed, dragging her towards the stairs. "We'll see what Mum has to say when she finds out her baby girl has been sneaking out at night."

In response, she pulled her wand and gave his a strong Stinging Hex to his cheek. "Let me go, Ronald, or I'll give you another one in someplace far more sensitive.

His eyes wide, he quickly dropped her arm before schooling his features once again. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" He tried to keep his voice low enough that he wouldn't wake the rest of the house with their argument. "I'm trying to be nice and all you can do is call names. What's your issue?"

"Right now, it's you." Ginny lowered her wand, but poked him hard in the chest with her sharp nails. "Leave me alone, Ronald Bilius, or I'll jinx you so bad you'll be in St. Mungo's for the entire summer, right next to Harry's aunt and uncle."

Ron screwed his face up. "How do you know about that? You weren't in on the meeting!"

Ginny smiled, an evil, feral grin that worried Ron as much as her laugh had earlier. "Don't worry about it." The grin disappeared and his sister was deadly serious once more. "Stay out of my business or there will be consequences."

"What happened to you," he asked softly as Ginny sauntered back to her room. "What happened to my little sister?"

He nearly missed her quiet reply. "She's gone." Her door slammed.

* * *

A/N: One chapter left. I'm sure you can guess what's going on there :) Hopefully that will be up soon. Thanks for indulging me in this. I appreciate all your feedback!

AZ


	8. Tom (Sniff) You Stink

A/N: Well, this is it. The last chapter. For real. Probably. Unless I come up with another idea :) Seriously though, this is most likely it. Thanks for sticking with me through all of this. You guys are a great community! Harmony forever!

I suppose I should once again mention that I own nothing familiar from this story.

Enjoy!

* * *

The note delivered by the large, black owl was succinct and straight to the point.

_Tonight._

Draco flinched as the temperamental familiar pecked at him and beat her wings in his face for a moment before taking off. "Blasted bird," he grumbled, burning the note with a wave of his wand. He grabbed the long dagger from his nightstand and once again cursed Harry Potter. At least he'd have a pair of boots or a slick new vest to show for his effort. Knowing Ginerva, he'd probably have to spare some of the skin for a clutch or purse of some sort. Of course, all that was based on one large assumption.

He had to survive the encounter with that damned snake first.

* * *

"Lucius!" Tom Marvolo Riddle was getting, for lack of a better word, antsy. With the Malfoy brat's news that his most competent rival, Albus Dumbledore, was bedridden and of ill health, he had decided that tonight was the night to strike. Nearly every available Death Eater had been sent to infiltrate the antiquated school in the Scottish highlands and to kill the old Headmaster. When he had assigned Draco the task of eliminating the old fool, he had expected nothing more than some ill-conceived attempt followed by complete and abject failure. Truthfully, Tom had been more interested in punishing Lucius' failure in retrieving the prophecy with the death of his spawn than any half-arsed plan to eliminate the ancient but still powerful Dumbledore. However, the boy had come through in spades. Citing the blood-traitor Weasley brat, who he had apparently been fucking in return for information, he relayed the news that Albus was suffering from an unknown ailment and was currently laid up in his school. After summoning Severus back from his global trip to gather potion supplies and receiving confirmation of Dumbledore's illness, he had quickly put together a plan to eliminate the meddlesome Headmaster and capture the school for his own. When his squad of Death Eaters arrived at the castle, Severus would allow them entry through the front gate. Nothing complicated, but having a traitor already placed inside would certainly pay off. Now he was simply waiting for word from his subjects that the deed had been done. Speaking of... "Lucius," he yelled again.

Finally, the blonde aristocrat made his way into the dining room that Tom had claimed for his receiving room. The short amount of time that Lucius Malfoy had spent in Azkaban had certainly done him no favors. His appearance, formerly a point of pride, was now worn and shabby. His face was thin and drawn and he looked as if he had aged a decade. "Yes, my lord," the man asked, bowing low.

"What news of the attack on Hogwarts? Did Severus gain them entry into the school?" Lucius tried to hide the worried look in his eyes but the Dark Lord could smell his fear. "What is it, Lucius? Tell me now!"

"We've received no communications from any of your servants since they arrived at the school, my lord," Lucius stammered.

"Useless fools!" Tom stood and paced the floor in anger. Worthless idiots, the lot of them. He should have known that those simpletons couldn't even handle something this easy. "Where is Peter? PETER," he yelled at the house. When neither reply nor Wormtail showed, he turned back to Lucius. "Where is that imbecile Pettigrew?" He waved off Lucius' stuttered reply. "No matter. I need Nagini." He tried to contact his familiar through their shared mental connection but was unable to make any sort of link. After a few moments of trying, he gave up with a roar of frustration. "Find me Nagini! Find me Wormtail! Now!" The house's blonde owner quickly scurried off.

Tom rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. He was aware that the vast majority of his servants were idiots but, in times like these, he wished that his cause attracted those with some semblance of intelligence. He was surrounded by simpering fools like Pettigrew and Malfoy and blind worshipers like Bellatrix Lestrange.

"My lord?" He snapped his head up at Lucius' wary tone. The frightened look on his face promised bad news.

At least for Lucius.

"What is it? Have you found Nagini or Wormtail?" Lucius hesitated a moment and, once again, Tom could smell the fear radiating from his pores. Oh yes, bad news indeed. "Out with it, Lucius!"

"Apologies, my lord, but Pettigrew and Nagini were... located."

"And?"

"They're... they're dead, my lord."

Tom stood immediately from his seat. "WHAT?! _CRUCIO_," he screamed at the prostrate Lucius, who writhed on the ground in pure, unadulterated agony. After holding the curse for a brief time, he cut it off with a wave of his wand. "Explain, Lucius. Now."

"P-p-peter had a d-dagger buried in his gut," the prone form forced out as he recovered from the excruciating pain of the torture curse. "It appears that he killed Nagini and then took his own life." He cried out in torment as the Cruciatus ripped through his body once again.

This time Tom allowed the curse to inflict pain for a long moment. "Fool! Can you not recognize the signs of the Imperius when it is staring you in the face? Wormtail has had plenty of chances to defy me in the past and his loyalty has never been in question. What kind of fool stabs themselves in the stomach to achieve death?" He finally waved his wand, ending Lucius' torture for the time being. Another wave dragged the blonde man towards him where he met with a swift kick to his gut. "Stand up, Lucius! We have a traitor in our midst." Lucius stood, suppressing a groan of agony. "Apparate to Hogsmeade and recall my servants there."

The elder Malfoy nodded, quickly gathering himself. He spun in place, intending to transport himself to the small Wizarding town on the outskirts of Hogwarts. All he succeeded in doing, however, was making a fool of himself as he pirouetted on the spot and fell on his arse.

"IDIOT," Tom raged. "Have you forgotten how to Apparate?" He grabbed Lucius' arm in his and attempted his own apparition, only to fail as his subject had. "An anti-apparition ward?"

"My lord, only a Malfoy can alter the wards around the manor-"

"Silence, fool. I know this." The magically powered lights in the manor went out. "I believe your imbecile son has betrayed us, Lucius." To who, though, Tom asked himself. The Ministry? He dismissed this thought almost immediately. Draco knew as well as anyone that no Auror could challenge him. Other than Moody, Shacklebolt, and a few others, none could last more than a few moments against his superior dueling skills. The only wizard that could possibly challenge him was the senile Headmaster of Hogwarts. If it weren't for Severus confirming the old coot's illness, he _might_ be slightly concerned. That left only one option.

"Potter," he growled.

_Nice of you to join the party, Tom._

He almost replied out loud before realizing the voice had come from his head, confirming his suspicions. _Very good, Potter. You have learned to control our mental connection. An admirable effort, but inconsequential. You will still die. And how courteous of you to come to me! For saving me the trip, I will make your death quick._

_Will you now_, the voice asked snidely. _What happened to the lights? Did Malfoy forget to pay the electric bill?_

Tom tried to get his wand to light up, ignoring the laughing voice rattling through his head. "Lucius," he yelled through the dark, "take down that nullifying ward and get these lights back up." Silence greeted him. "Lucius!"

The boy's annoying laugh echoed in his mind again. _That's the problem with hired help, Tom. You never know when they're going to turn their back on you. Luckily for you, I terminated Lucius' employment. In fact, I gave him a very nice... _**severance**_. Heads up!_

A large object flew from the shadows and struck Tom in the chest, almost knocking him over. Barely able to make out the dark, spherical object on the floor, he reached down and touched... hair. Long hair. Realization struck, along with an emotion Tom was only familiar with vicariously: Fear. He slowly backed away from the head laying on the floor.

Lucius' head.

He raised his wand, pointing from one dark corner of the room to another as Potter's laughter continued to reverberate through their connection. _You're all alone now, Tom._ He thought he heard a noise and swiveled to the opposite corner. _How does it feel, knowing that your death is eminent?_ Tom thought the voice had come from the opposite side of the room but, once again, only darkness greeted him. Another large object struck him in the back, and he spun quickly. Nothing there, save the pear-shaped object laying on the ground at his feet. Wormtail. _Very good, Tom. Two for two! Should I be concerned that you can identify your servants by the shape of their heads?_ And once again, that inane laughter.

"Come out and duel me like a man," he yelled at the shadows. "_Avada Kedavra_," he screamed and waved his wand, attempting to cast the Killing Curse into the darkness, but to no avail. "Coward! Your father shrieked like a woman as I tortured him and your Mudblood mother cursed your name before she died!" He spun from corner to corner, driving himself into a fear-induced frenzy. "WHERE ARE YOU, POTTER?"

"Here."

Tom turned in surprise at the boy's actual voice coming from behind him and raised his wand, forgetting that it was still useless. A hot stream of pain shot into his arm, just above his elbow, and he fell to the ground, screaming in agony.

"Drop the wards," Potter's voice commanded and the lights came up almost immediately. He squinted his eyes as his most hated enemy's familiar visage came into view, along with the Mudblood Granger, the younger Malfoy and the blood-traitor Weasley. Tom's eyes settled on his severed arm, still holding his wand, and he quickly tried for the weapon, only for Potter to kick it away. "Talk about disarming," the boy quipped to the others, before turning back to him. "You're finished, Tom."

"Foolish boy. You have not defeated me. I have conquered death! There are ways of avoiding destruction, ways that you cannot even begin to comprehend, Potter!"

"You wouldn't be talking about Horcruxes, would you," the Mudblood innocently asked.

His eyes widened momentarily before he schooled his features. "So you know what I have accomplished. Bah! It means nothing!"

"It _means_ that I have found and destroyed them all, Tom," Harry replied. "The diary, the ring, the diadem, the cup, the locket, and Nagini. All destroyed." The boy leveled the blood-covered sword he carried at his neck. "You're finished, Riddle."

"Never! I'll kill you, Potter! I swear it!" A swing of the sword and the being once known as Tom Marvolo Riddle was no more.

* * *

_**19 Years Later**_

"Alright, you three. Here's the entrance to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters." Hermione motioned to her husband. "Harry, you go first and-"

"I'm going first!" Her oldest, James, set off before his mother could say anything and quickly pushed his cart through the invisible barrier separating the Muggle form of King's Cross Station with the magical version.

Hermione turned back to her husband, a scowl on her face. "He's such a little _you_," she muttered. "And wipe that grin off of your face. It's not funny." Harry only smiled bigger and, finally, a small smile appeared on her face as well.

"It's a little funny," Harry informed her, the large grin still on his face. He pinched his wife's bum lightly, causing her to jump and let out a small squeak in surprise, before he hurriedly passed through the barrier himself.

Groaning at her husband's childlike behavior, she turned to her two youngest. "Alright then, you two? Did you see your brother and father do it?"

Her daughter rolled her eyes, reminding Hermione greatly of herself at that age. "Yes, mother," Ursula replied.

"We've been with you when you dropped James off the past two years, mother," her brother, Castor, added.

So they had, Hermione reminded herself. How quickly the time passed these days. It seemed like it was just a short time ago that she had given birth to these two, yet here they were, leaving for their first day of school. "Yes. Well, it doesn't hurt to be too prepared, now does it?" Attentive children that they were, the twins shook their heads. "On with you now. Your father will be wondering what is taking so long." Ursula hopped onto their luggage cart and her brother obligingly pushed it through the barrier. After checking her surroundings and finding the coast to be clear, she quickly followed and nearly ran into the twins, who had stopped their cart and were staring at some sort of commotion away from the tracks. "What's the hold-up here, loves?" Ursula shrugged her shoulders and Castor shook his head, signaling that he knew no more than his sister. Hermione spied her husband making his way in towards her. "There's your father. Maybe he knows." As Harry got closer, she could make out the worried look on his face. It must be serious for him to show that much emotion in public. "What is it? Is James okay," she asked softly.

"James is fine," he reassured her, gesturing off to the side where her oldest son was conversing with Neville Longbottom. Hermione let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding. Her relief didn't last long, however. "It's Ron."

"Sweet Morgana. He didn't?"

Harry shook his head. "He did. Luckily Neville was there and got to him before he could fire on James. He's still alive, but in bad shape." They made their way over to their oldest, who seemed not the worse for wear.

"I hear my son owes you a life-debt," Hermione offered to one of their oldest friends and former classmate.

"Think nothing of it, Milady." Neville sketched a bow in her direction. "Prince James was just telling me how excited he is to be starting his fifth year."

"And lucky he is to be making it there," Hermione said, glaring at her oldest, who shrank under his mother's harsh stare. "Go on over and keep and eye on your brother and sister, James." Her tone brooking no argument, James slunk away to the perch from which the twins were watching the proceedings. Once he had gone, Hermione turned back to the man who had saved her son's life. "Thank you again, Neville. I mean it. Harry told me that Ronald would have killed him if it wasn't for your quick wand. How can we thank you?"

"You and the King have done more than enough for me already, Milady. If not for your suggestion to Hannah and Susan that they use that Muggle procedure, Vivian wouldn't have been born."

"Artificial insemination is a very common way for same-sex couples to have a baby in the Muggle world and Hannah and Susan couldn't have picked a better donor for their daughter's father." Hermione smiled warmly at their friend. "How is your little girl doing?"

"Growing like a weed," Neville laughed. "Excited for her first year, of course." He gestured across the platform, where Susan and Hannah Bones were doing their level best to corral a hyperactive little brown-haired girl. His face turned somber as he looked back to the wall at the edge of the platform where a slumped, redheaded shape lay. "I imagine you'll want to speak to him, then?"

Harry and Hermione nodded gloomily. "The least we could do for our oldest friend," Harry sadly muttered.

Neville handed them Ron's wand. "I'll be nearby. Milord, Milady." He offered another short bow and made his way over to where their children waited for them.

"Ready," Hermione asked her husband.

Harry shook his head. "No, but I guess we have to anyway." He took her hand in his and they slowly strode to the end of the platform and the hunched, disheveled form of Ronald Weasley. "Hello, Ron." Their best friend looked up at his name being called and Hermione nearly cried at the sight of him. His face unshaven and gaunt, his body skinny and emaciated, Ronald looked far older than his 35 years.

"Harry. 'Mione," he ground out, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. "Fancy seeing you here." He tried to laugh but all that came out was a racking cough.

"Merlin, Ronald. Why? Why do this," Hermione asked. "We gave you and the others every opportunity to join us. Even when you denied us, we still allowed you to leave without incident. After everything we've been through together, after everything we've done for you since, you come after our son! Why?"

"You want to know why? Because you're tyrants, that's why," Ron spat. "Eliminating those that don't agree with your views, passing laws to restrict freedoms, forcing everyone else to leave their homes. Those aren't the actions of a benign ruler. You two're murderers, plain and simple. I just wanted to give you some of what you've shared with me for the past two decades. I did it for Dumbledore, Tonks, Minerva, and everyone else we lost to you. I did it for my family." He coughed again, more blood dribbling from his mouth as well as his nose. "I did it to show that we don't have to be afraid of standing up to you.

"Of course Neville, that traitor, really buggered it up, didn't he?"

Harry shook his head. "I wish I could have prevented every one of those deaths. I offered all of you clemency if you'd give up this foolish fight but you all insisted. Traitors to the crown cannot be suffered to live. As for Arthur and Molly-"

"Don't you DARE mention their names! They treated you like a son and you had them killed!"

"It was an accident, Ron, I swear," Harry pleaded. "I would never hurt your family."

"And Ginny? What of her? You can't tell me that you didn't have anything to do with her... change."

"Ginerva is just fine, Ron. I'm sure she's here with Draco and-"

"That's not my sister," Ron interrupted. "Ginny disappeared that summer and never came back." His eyes misted over for a moment and he looked away. "I suppose I won't be leaving the station, will I?"

Harry shook his head sorrowfully. "No, you won't."

Ron nodded his head, accepting his fate. "The Order will avenge me, you know. You'll never have a moment's worth of peace while we're around."

"Ronald, the Order is no more," Hermione whispered, cleaning the blood from his face with a silent _Scourgify_. He may be their enemy now, but he was their friend once and he deserved to die with dignity. "Our forces captured the remnants of the Order this morning. We'll make them an offer for leniency, of course." She looked at the clock and noticed it was getting towards eleven. "It's time, Ronald. As one last favor for our oldest friend, we promise to release your wife and daughter. They'll face no reprisal from us, you have our vow."

A single tear tracked its way down his face and he gave a quick nod. "Make it quick, will you?"

Harry nodded. "Of course, mate." A whispered _Avada Kedavra_ and Ron was off to his next great adventure. Harry lingered for a moment, his head bowed, before closing his friend's eyes and standing.

"He chose his path, beloved," Hermione whispered, using her pet name for her husband. She spied her children looking in their direction. "Let's go speak with them," she said, nodding in that direction. A quick shake of her head directed the Aurors to take care of Ron's body and they made their way towards their children.

"What took so long," James moaned as they walked up. "You should have just killed the traitor and gotten it over with. Now all the compartments are going to be full!" Harry and Hermione shared a look before Harry took his oldest son off to the side, leaving Hermione with the twins.

"Why does he always do that," Ursula asked once they were gone.

"Why does your father do what?" Hermione tried to fix her daughter's curly black hair into some semblance of order before giving it up as a bad job.

"Take James off to the side like that," Castor supplied. "Like he doesn't want us to listen to what he's saying."

"It's not that your father doesn't want you to hear what he's saying, loves, he just has important things to share with your brother sometimes. Things that, in this case, might be embarrassing for James to hear in front of anyone else." She looked over to her husband, who was quietly dressing down his oldest for putting himself in danger earlier and his lack of tact just now. "As the heir to the Throne, your brother will occasionally be privy to lessons from your father that you might not."

"You don't have to tell us, Mother. He's been rubbing it in our faces all summer," lamented Ursula. "I'm James Artouiros Magnus Potter and I'm going to be King one day," she sneered, standing on her tiptoes and imitating her brother.

Hermione stifled a laugh. It wouldn't do to encourage that behavior. "That's enough, Ursula," she gently chided her daughter. "Your father loves you both, very much. You know that, right?" The twins nodded. "You'll have a great responsibility of your own when you come of age." Their eyes widened at this news. "Your brother may be King, but you will be his hands. Your father gave you the name of Black to honor a man who was this position for his own father. When you have children of your own, they will serve your niece or nephew in the same way. And so it will continue. A Black will always serve a Potter as their closest confidant. So you see, Ursula Lilith Black and Castor Lycanis Black," she placed a hand fondly on both of her twins' heads, "even though you might not be fated to lead, you still have important destinies." A loud whistle cut through the air. "That will be the Express. Best get going, loves." She bent down and gave them both hugs as well as a kiss on the cheek. She stood to find her husband had rejoined her.

"Well then, you two," Harry said, leaning down and wrapping them both in his long arms. "Try not to cause too much trouble. With that in mind, I have a gift for you." He reached into his back pocket, removed a very familiar looking parchment and handed it to Castor. "Your mother and I had some fun with that when we went to Hogwarts."

"A blank piece of parchment," Castor asked, looking skeptical.

"A blank piece of parchment right now. You'll just have to figure out the key phrase. You've enough of your mother in you that I think you can handle it." Hermione smacked him on the shoulder for the backhanded compliment. "Kidding, kidding. If you don't have it in a week, I'll owl you the password."

"Thank you, Dad," the two chorused.

The train whistled once more. "Best be getting going, then. I'm sure Arachne Malfoy is holding a compartment for you two."

"She _hates_ that name, Dad," Castor grumbled, grabbing his trunk.

"Castor likes Guinevere, Castor likes Guinevere," his sister taunted as they dragged their trunks towards the scarlet locomotive. Soon enough, they were aboard and seated in a compartment, waving to their parents, who returned the gesture enthusiastically.

As the engine steamed and pulled the train away from the station, Harry wrapped his wife in his arms and kissed away her happy tears. "Empty house again, eh love?"

"They grew up so fast, Harry. I miss them already."

"Don't tell me you want more," he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Well maybe not right away," Hermione purred, curled up in her favorite place: Harry's embrace. "Who's to say we can't practice, though?"

Harry snaked an arm around her chest and softly squeezed a breast. He licked her earlobe, causing her to shiver in anticipation, and whispered the one thing that he knew would drive her wild.

"Dirty little witch."

**_Fin._**

* * *

A/N: I love reading and writing about these two. They just seem to fit together in so many different ways that the possibilities for them seem almost endless. Someone wrote that they're the classic lovers, starting off as best friends and becoming something more. They would have been so good together in canon! Unfortunately, JKR didn't agree but I guess that's what ff is for. It's weird though, she even gave interviews saying that she always saw herself in Hermione and that she tended to date men like Ron, until she married her husband, who reminded her more of Harry. I could go on all day but seems a bit pointless now with the series finished, doesn't it?

Not sure what's on the plate next. Got an idea for a few stories rattling around. One non-HP and one in this universe. Kinda just came to me the other night. What if Tom was a half-blood and muggleborn sympathizer instead of a pure-blood supremacist? Something different, I hope. Anyway, thanks again for reading my story. Help me get too 100 reviews, please! That would make my day.

AZ


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